Do you have to lose your soul in order to become a success on the stock exchange? Well, yes - or maybe, in the last analysis, no - writer/director Martini can't quite make up his mind. This feeble comedy plays it both ways, lambasting the get-rich-quick mentality while showing that beneath even the meanest, dirtiest trader's chest beats a heart of gold. Runner Casey Falls (Allen) wants to become a trader, but her career path is blocked by her womanising boss (Stockwell). So she strikes a Faustian deal with a wacky, hip woman (Vance) who claims to be the devil's assistant. Casey will get the promotion, the mansion, the car, but she has to put up with endless pranks and supernatural displays from the mischievous demon. And there's the small matter of her soul. Characterisation is two-dimensional, and the intrigues fall flat. Ray Charles crops up intermittemtly; Sally Kellerman puts in an appearence; and it's disappointing to find Stockwell and Allen's roles so underdeveloped.