Problem: negative
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Answer: "National Lampoon Goes to the Movies" (1981) is, simply put, the worst movie ever made, far lamer than even the inept "Plan 9 from Outer Space."

The Lampoon film is told in three segments, each one supposedly a spoof of a conventional movie genre, but each one landing at our feet with a sickening thud. There is no rhyme or reason for these execrable vignettes, and no discernible story lines.

Another reviewer on this site has written that the only good points about the film are the nude scenes. True, Misses Ganzel and Dusenberry do flash a bit of flesh, and very nice it is too. But the directors seem not to realize that even T&A needs a good story to surround it. There's none of that here.

Probably the worst of the three segments is the last one, featuring Robby Benson and Richard Widmark. Here, we see Benson as a young, eager-beaver policeman being paired with a cynical oldtimer played by Widmark. And for just a moment, those of us who are still watching this odious cinematic exercise are heartened by the thought that we are about to see a redemptive tale about how the young, idealistic cop brings about a purifying change in the old-timer's approach to police work. But no such luck. As we've said, this film has no redeeming values. It is sickening all the way to the final fade-out -- which, perversely, is stretched out longer than it should last on the screen. Apparently the film makers knew they had a bad thing going, and wanted to make the least of it.

Problem: negative
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Answer: The best Laurel and Hardy shorts are filled to the brim with mishaps, accidents and destruction, mostly caused by Stan, but with Ollie receiving the bulk (!) of the punishment-- see the great 'The Music Box' (1933) or 'Towed in a Hole' (1932) as some some classic examples.

Here, however, for some reason (is it because it was based on a sketch by Stan's father?) the boys play it 'straight' in a 'comedy' built around jokes and supposedly funny situations. It doesn't come off. It's merely another third-rate tedious 30s comedy, heightened only by the personalities of Stan and Ollie who never really display any of their trademarked gestures (Ollie's finger wiggling, Stan's blank stares, etc.) or comic abilities.

The film begins with them running from the police. Since we never see or know why, it's hard to believe or accept their fear of being caught, and thus hiding in Colonel Buckshot's mansion. The premise for the 'humor', Ollie passing himself off as the Colonel and Stan passing himself off as both the butler and the maid are never very engaging. They are not playing 'Stan and Ollie' in this film. Their parts could have been played by any of the pedestrian studio actors and it would be just as poor.

Stan could mime and make whatever he would do funny, but he doesn't get the chance to do any of that here. He's constrained by uttering too much dialog to 'move' the plot, but none of it rises much above the silly. We are treated to endless third rate comedy chestnuts such as the running gag of not correctly pronouncing Lord Plumtree's name, the "Call me a cab! Okay you're a cab!" joke, cops losing their clothes and being seen in long johns, and a non-sequiter ending of Stan and Ollie as the two parts in a painfully obvious horse costume as they make their escape on a bicycle for two, and James Finlayson is still doing his silent-era full body takes and Keystone Kop jumping jacks.

Stan and Ollie do much better in a situation comedy in 'Sons of the Desert'(1933) where we get to see them do what we love about them -- be themselves. In fact, 1932-34 seem to be their best years.

Since this film does not play to any of their strengths, why bother with it? I have to give it a 3.

Problem: negative
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Answer:
First of all, really Kim Basinger? Your rich banker husband leaves you alone in your beautiful, most likely paid in cash for home, and you can't even put on a decent shirt? I'm a woman, and yes, I'm going to come right out say it--clean something, starting with your hair. And while you're at it, it's Christmas Eve. Buy your kids some presents...or at least a Christmas tree. Don't drive 40 minutes to the crowded mall, park your car 3 miles away and cry about it the whole walk in, and simply buy wrapping paper. Also, the next time you decide to leave someone a nasty note, don't sign your name. I refuse to feel sorry for Della. Obviously, due to the fact that Kim Basinger is this masterpiece's executive producer, she wants you to feel bad for the poor white blond woman. We get it. Alec Baldwin is a jerk, but seriously, don't model horrible films after your own life. Also, you're in you 50s. You definitely wouldn't have 8 year old twins. AND THOSE NAMES? Terry and Tammy. Way to let your kids grow up with any decent chance of ever respecting themselves. It's also pretty fantastic to hear the characters in the film constantly call her beautiful or refer to her as a "girl"...obviously Ms. Basinger had some say about what goes in the script. It's also pretty awesome how none of the criminals can fight back. Apparently, Della's magical ninja skills are impossible to beat. Her driving skills are pretty nifty too. This film is so cliche, it hurts. Wahhhhh! They spelled your name wrong on the tea cup. Or your husband put a hole in the wall but all you can think about is buying nail polish when you're at the mall instead of maybe some plaster and paint. Or the woman you went to high school with bought the teddy you were looking at. Boohooo! The fact that she refuses to take off that BRIGHT trench coat while running through the woods screaming and breaking everything in her path proves my point--this woman is a moron. Who thinks to grab the toolbox out of the car, but not their purse, full of identifying artifacts such as your ADDRESS. I have never wanted the "bad guys" to succeed as much as when I watched this film. And did anyone else happen to catch the "African American" shirt the black guy was sporting? Oh yes, rewind and feast your eyes on perhaps the most racially stereotypical prop in a film yet. Don't waste and hour and twenty minutes of your life. Instead, go do what Della couldn't figure out how to do...take care of your kids, and maybe brush your hair. That powerful ballad at the end though was pretty impressive. Singing "I'll Be Home For Christmas" in the rain while your bloody arm clings oh so tightly to your wrapping paper is about as emotional as it gets. Thanks Della!