Lauren (Long) and Sandy (Midler) share the same two-timing lover (Coyote), a fact they only discover after he has skipped town, hotly pursued by the CIA over some stolen toxin. The stick-sisters join the chase, the script's mistaken assumption being the more the merrier. Lauren is classy and cultured, Sandy ain't, and their initial rivalry resembles a duet for the disdainful nostril and the gob. As a vehicle for their considerable comic talents, the enterprise is wheelclamped by type casting. Both identify a mutilated corpse as not being their man, but of course it is Bette who gets to spell out in clear that the clue was the size of his dick. Once the chase is on, there are reels of escapes down laundry chutes and madcap rides on baggage carts and motorbikes, and no shortage of threshing gams. It's the sort of comedy in which captives' bonds are thick and new as ropes aboard pirate films, while outbursts of C & W underline the fun of the chase.