Wired

It isn't easy to leave aside the Hollywood conspiracy against this John Belushi biopic, since threats of litigation have left such raw gaps in the action. One's sympathy for the underdog - producer Ed Feldman - is counterbalanced by one's boredom about Belushi and all his works, plus the high stultifying factor in Bob Woodward's biography. Perhaps the worst thing about Wired is that it is totally unfunny. Michael Chiklis works hard to bring the fat comic to life, but none of the routines work, and the samurai baseball-player sketch is embarrassing. This Dan Aykroyd (Groomes), perhaps haunted by the actual Aykroyd's curse, scarcely registers; Woodward (Walsh) is suitably beady as the investigator, but his function in the screenplay is clearly that of connective tissue. God knows why they decided to resurrect the dead Belushi from his slab in the morgue and take him on a tour of his life under the ageis of a guardian angel (Sharkey). Probably desperation.