There's a whiff of putrefied, petrified wackiness about this pointless remake of a knockabout 1979 comedy which originally featured Peter Falk as an undercover CIA man whose son is marrying the daughter of an uptight dentist, Alan Arkin; Falk no sooner meets him but genially drags the protesting Arkin into wildly dangerous situations.

This time it's Michael Douglas as the secret-spy dad and Albert Brooks as the squaresville foil. Panicky Brooks, a podiatrist in this version, gets whisked over to France on a Bond-era private jet to face an international criminal, coincidentally a hilarious self-loathing homosexual in a wig, played by that estimable actor David Suchet. He presumably got through this excruciating ordeal by continuously thinking of the money. Not an analgesic available to the audience.

And all the time we're supposed to be thinking: yikes! The wedding's on Sunday! And the father of the groom and the father of the bride are going on these zany international adventures with sinister spies firing guns at them on airstrips! How uproarious is it going to be when they stagger dishevelled into the church, reception or whatever it is!

In fact, the secret-danger/wedding juxtaposition is played out over and over again as there are innumerable rehearsals, bridal showers, pre-wedding dinners to be interrupted by FBI agents, spies, villains, etc, with diminishing returns in terms of comic effect, starting from a pretty low level anyway. And Douglas himself, not a natural broad comedy player, looks out of his depth with Brooks hardly more comfortable.

One to miss.