Absurd adaptation of a dinner-theater perennial by Alec Coppel has television-writer Glenn Ford attempting to cover up a murder by burying the corpse underneath wife Debbie Reynolds' garden gazebo. This type of sitcom nonsense--featuring totally unreal supporting characters bursting into the scenario at just the wrong moment (such as the pushy real-estate agent)--doesn't usually work on film; the would-be eccentricities stick out as phony artifices. Comedy shows from television have since put a stamp on this kind of bungling silliness...but were over-the-top, frazzled-nerves-slapstick ever really fresh? Ford and Reynolds are actually a good screen match, but not when paired with this leaden script. Awkward, talky, and mercilessly unfunny. * from ****
Review of The Gazebo
