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I stumbled on a mention of this movie after Jerry Lewis died. Based on a Vonnegut book, I expected something different and was not disappointed in that respect. It really impressed me as something that they just threw together in real time, just figuring out what to do next in between shooting scenes. I'm extremely surprised at caliber of some of the name involved in the project, Jerry Lewis (two roles!) and Orson Welles?!?! I give them some credit for trying to make a film out of the crazy book Slapstick, even though it is a colossal failure and only covers the beginning of the novel. A few scenes remind me of typical Tom Green comedy schtick, nothing but noise and mess, but just noise and mess doesn't make something funny, it's just infantile. I watched it yesterday and I think it is like trying to get the smell of burnt milk out of your nose, the ridiculously bad scenes just hang around in my memory. Someone would literally have to pay me $500 to watch this again, it is that painful.

I understand the book this is "adapted" from was not great by any means, but I don't think a book could possibly be this bad.

The description for the movie does no justice in describing this atrocity. Twins are birthed from the loins of two "beautiful" people, only they look like Sasquatch sized creatures from another world (oops, spoilers! Oh wait no one will care). They apparently seem smart together but the film gives us little insight into that. On one hand, we do get tons and tons of bad vignettes of people well past their prime trying to be funny. Jerry Lewis seemingly shaped this after Blazing Saddles, but took out any social commentary, acting prowess and humor.

The worst part is all of the actors look like they are being confronted by existential dread. They probably saw the dailies and were horrified. Apparently the weirdo that made this film also made Baby Geniuses. No wonder it was so terrible. There is a morbid curiosity of seeing a train wreck like this, but most people have better things to do with their lives.

Vonnegut novels have proven time and again very difficult to translate to film. For whatever reason, the subtlety and humanity of the novels get lost or scrambled in the interpretation. And this is probably the most glaring example.

Missing most of the point of the book and pulling focus from any reflection on loneliness or the absurdity of modern life and putting that energy into seeing Jerry Lewis interact with a poorly SFX overlay fortune-cookie-shaped UFOs. Which is the tip of the iceberg in terms of the high key racism in the film.

An arguably stellar cast gets mostly wasted on a joyless slog through a story that feels only tenuously adjacent to the source material.

I was too young when it came out to notice, but it's hard to imagine this seeing some release in the same year that Ghostbusters came out. It feels like it was made in a different decade, in a different dimension. I feel like this film and Heartbeeps bring similar grim energies. Both films I find interesting in their approach. Both intended to be comedies with heartfelt messages at the core, and both of them leaving you with a forlorn emptiness. If you absolutely love the book, maybe don't seek this out. If you want to see a big weird mess, then go for it.

Despite the consensus that Jerry Lewis hasn't been funny in decades, I opted to watch this painful farce out of my reverence for the great book which 'inspired' it. And it had Marty Feldman -usually a real hoot. What unforgivable tripe! Lewis and Khan play Wilbur and Eliza (giant, ugly twins who are a genius collective genius when together, but idiots when apart) and their aristocrat parents terribly. Sadly, I'll concede that it sticks to the book fairly well -THE FIRST HALF! All the best portions are ultimately lost due to a cop-out screenplay which aims to get laughs from caper-style bumbling and mess-making by over-aged comedians sadly better suited to telethons. Read the novel -it's brilliant; Wilbur becomes the last (and tallest ever) President of the United States just before a plague kills off the majority of its population (wildly suspected to be due to inhalation of microscopic Chinese). His recollections of his better years and falling-out with Eliza are signiature bitter-sweet Vonnegut. The best part of the movie was Pat Morita as a prototypical 3" Chinaman ambassador.

This movie is so tragically bad; that you feel sorry for those involved. Adapted from a Kurt Vonnegut story, with some big name talents in the cast, the story is destroyed by a lame script, no slapstick or any comedy of any kind, and stars given nothing to work with. Jerry Lewis and Madeline Kahn play aliens who have a message for the world, and encounter evil everywhere--a depressing premise to start with. Versatile Pat Morita is wasted on a mean-spirited, stereotypical little loudmouth character that isn't the least bit funny--only irritating. Marty Feldman, Orson Welles, and Jim Backus have parts they probably hid from their resumes too. One recurring joke is that excrement is a new fuel source; this sad attempt at humor was as close to a laugh as you get. The film has only one worth while moment: a touching scene near the end where you actually get a chance to feel something for the two characters who have been mercilessly hurt throughout the movie. An unfunny comedy that will just leave you feeling empty.