Landis transposes Claude Magnier's French farce to Prohibition-era America in homage to the screwball comedies of the '30s. The script is sharp, if formulaic, but the film suffers from several contradictions: this is a farce without sexual tension, a family film with Stallone in the lead, a Landis comedy without vulgarity. At the centre of a deliciously convoluted plot involving mislaid suitcases and never-laid suitors is the plight of Snaps (Stallone), a gangster who promised his dying father to go straight, only no one believes him. Which is the reverse of Stallone's plight: he's trying to go into comedy, only we can't quite believe him. It's a demanding role which calls for more than he can give. Only an eye-poppingly camp Tim Curry, and Harry Shearer and Martin Ferrero's bickering Finucci Brothers, inject life into the proceedings. Landis orchestrates the action with military precision, but forgot to tell his troupe to go over the top.