It's 1939 and Radio WBN Chicago is on air, but amid the melee of performers and technicians lurks a dastardly killer. Did anyone control this cross between Radio Days and Rocketeer, or was it just left to freewheel? George Lucas, once the director of Star Wars, now an effects guru and shadowy executive producer, apparently had the idea long long ago. As an hommage to the screwball comedies of yesteryear it fails, with obvious one-liners and mistimed pratfalls, but as kitsch farce it succeeds, with an attractive cast, breathless pace, and lavish visuals.
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