Gosh darn awful movie, written by Woody Allen, but directed by the directionless Clive Donner, with music by Burt Bacharach. Peter Sellers and Peter O'Toole play two incredibly annoying characters: the former a Freudian psychiatrist; the latter a real ladies' man. It's farcical in an undercranked, Keystone manner; and farcical in a don't-ever-watch-this manner. I'm a big fan of Woody Allen, but I guess when he's not directing, you don't get the best out of his material. There's - as ever - some good writing underneath this, but it's lost in the shoddy swinging sixties shite that Donner pukes up. And where's the question mark in the title?
Nugget: I had to pause this movie so that I could fall asleep for a while. Yes, it was that intruiging.