It's the world's worst-kept secret that John Landis hasn't directed a really good film in over twenty years. The real tragedy is that he spent a decade between 1978 and 1988 making what are now some of the most fondly remembered of all modern comedies: from the anarchy of Animal House, to the reckless excesses of Blues Brothers, through the sharp observations of Trading Places, via the bonkers ensemble of Three Amigos!, to the broad satire of Coming to America.
Burke and Hare, about cadaver salesmen operating in 19th century Edinburgh (a concept with body-bags of comic potential), boasts an impressive cast of British (albeit largely non-Scottish) talent, including a few familiar Landis faces - Jenny Agutter, John Woodvine and David Schofield all featured in An American Werewolf in London.
But also sadly familiar is the dearth of quality writing and comedy timing on show. Landis approaches the film with a ribald, Carry On sensibility; and yet the script delivers very few actual jokes - certainly none that can be picked out by the roots - and the production design is more Barry Lyndon grimy than Hammer Horror camp.
Scene after scene ends on a meaningless bog-eyed glare from Burke (Simon Pegg) or Hare (Andy Serkis), inspiring embarrassed silence from the audience. Isla Fisher is game as Ginny, the ex-pro with theatrical ambitions. Tom Wilkinson, as the celebrity surgeon who inadvertently inspires the eponymous anti-heroes' rampage, is dead serious in the midst of all the knockabout nonsense. Ronnie Corbett - always a welcome face - tries hard to squeeze some humour from a surprisingly prominent role, but to no avail.
It's not all doom and gloom. There are flashes of Landis at his macabre best in a couple of the murder setups, and a sex scene between Hare and Lucky (Pegg's old partner-in-crime Jessica Hynes) provides far and away the film's funniest scene. But these are atypical moments in an otherwise wasted opportunity.
Burke and Hare, about cadaver salesmen operating in 19th century Edinburgh (a concept with body-bags of comic potential), boasts an impressive cast of British (albeit largely non-Scottish) talent, including a few familiar Landis faces - Jenny Agutter, John Woodvine and David Schofield all featured in An American Werewolf in London.
But also sadly familiar is the dearth of quality writing and comedy timing on show. Landis approaches the film with a ribald, Carry On sensibility; and yet the script delivers very few actual jokes - certainly none that can be picked out by the roots - and the production design is more Barry Lyndon grimy than Hammer Horror camp.
Scene after scene ends on a meaningless bog-eyed glare from Burke (Simon Pegg) or Hare (Andy Serkis), inspiring embarrassed silence from the audience. Isla Fisher is game as Ginny, the ex-pro with theatrical ambitions. Tom Wilkinson, as the celebrity surgeon who inadvertently inspires the eponymous anti-heroes' rampage, is dead serious in the midst of all the knockabout nonsense. Ronnie Corbett - always a welcome face - tries hard to squeeze some humour from a surprisingly prominent role, but to no avail.
It's not all doom and gloom. There are flashes of Landis at his macabre best in a couple of the murder setups, and a sex scene between Hare and Lucky (Pegg's old partner-in-crime Jessica Hynes) provides far and away the film's funniest scene. But these are atypical moments in an otherwise wasted opportunity.