Admirers of Playtime won't be too disappointed, but for the Tati heretic it's a long, slow haul between the occasional brilliant gag. With all the wonder of someone just back from Crusoe's island, Tati here discovers the joys of traffic problems. Jammed drivers, not just one but several, pick their noses as they wait, so that Tati can milk all the behavioural possibilities out of furtiveness, relish, pretending I'm doing something else, and so forth. Then there's the crash, a ballet of yawning boots and bonnets as cars pile up from nowhere and detached parts take on a life of their own as they spin off on unpredictable joyrides. Or there's the rainy bit, with windscreen wipers sweeping rhythmically, chattily, pompously or excitedly, depending on the personality of the owner. All very clever, but done with the sort of calculated precision that has one chalking up points rather than laughing.