It's potentially one of the worst films of the nineties, but the suicidal notion of casting Chris rea way out of his depth against the lieks of Kendall, Cleese and Hoskins is sheer brazen foolishness that only comes around once in a blue moon. Another belter from Michael Winner, and stands as a superb testament on when to use emotive soundtracks and when not ot (mostly the latter). Scene after scene reeks of sheer ineptitude, punctuated by the most flatlined of performances from leading man Rea. It's not worth a tenner. It's not even worth the five words it took to write the last sentence. It's nonsense; its infantile response to cancer victims and their relationships only add to the stratospheric mess. But goodness gracious me, it's compulsive viewing.