Fond nostalgia for that golden and not altogether mythical age (1954) when American television was live and innovative and came from New York City. Finding his feet in this buzz of hard work and talent is a young scriptwriter (Linn-Baker), suddenly assigned the heady task of nursemaiding an uproarious guest star through rehearsals and away from drink and trouble. The guest is a former screen idol in the Errol Flynn mould: a very funny performance from O'Toole, who throws himself into the drunk's pratfall routines like a lanky rag doll, coming up ever serene, debonair and with a suspicion of eye-liner. Richard Benjamin directs the smartish script and the chaotic tomfoolery quite brilliantly; but all concerned mishandle the soppy section where O'Toole gets misty-eyed about his discarded daughter. Still, the pace picks up for the magnificent comic climax.