A clever, economical play founders and collapses in its author's adaptation, in the most obvious way-- Butterworth indulges a character's psychotic eccentricities until a viewer cringes each time he re-enters the picture. Too bad he knocks the film so badly out of whack-- the two stooges whose interplay so delighted NY stage critics become spear-carriers in this rewrite. Harold Pinter has a talent for playing creeps, but the films one redeeming feature is Ian Hart, a good actor who here has gravity and authority, but he can scarcely keep the camera, so inclined is Butterworth to let the nutcase role to show off some more.