I gave Altman's Prairie Home Companion my first 10, and I have watched MASH and Gosford Park many times, but this film is an embarrassment. The dialog is boring. It feels like ad lib filler. There are a few clever scenes, but for the most part you keep waiting for something to happen that never does.It gets its cheap laughs from stereotype gay characters.The colour reminded me of home movies of the 1950s. The sound was muddy.I turned off the video several times watching it out of boredom, and returned later, to give it another chance. After all, this IS Altman, Glenda Jackson and Jeff Goldblum.

Comedy is hard. BEYOND THERAPY is, arguably, Christopher Durang's best play and Robert Altman's worst film. The casting of the film is not terrible -- on paper. But almost every other aspect of the film -- the direction, the look, the sound -- is wrong-headed, -hearted, and every other relevant organ-ed. Still, going on the principle that an artist should be judged by his best work, not his worst, enough about Altman. Even Homer nodded and I don't mean Homer Simpson, but, come to think of it --. Durang's comedy remains incisive and hilarious. From the perspective of 2004 it seems so embedded in its era that it effortlessly transcends its time -- like Restoration Comedy on a good night. This is nigh-on-impossible to see in the film, but it is happily evident in an audio recording made in 2002, featuring a splendid cast of gen-u-ine comic actors, headed by Catherine O'Hara, David Hyde Pierce, Kate MacGregor, and Richard Kind. It's "pure '80s." It's the "me decade" pressed down and flowing over. The peculiar idiocies of idiotic therapists are skewered on Durang's pen as are personal ads, grotesque drama (Eck! Eck! EQUUS!), let-it-all-hang-out personal interaction, and wildly "inappropriate" therapist/patient relationships. It is laugh-out-loud wonderful on CD and may serve to comfort the Durang and Altman fans who are justifiably horrified at the film.

Whoever thought of bringing Christopher Durang and Robert Altman together has never mixed oil with water. Never have two artists been more obviously mismatched. Altman creates dark little moody set pieces, and moves at his own leisurely (and idiosyncratic) pace; Durang's fast little funny script practically begs for a crackling speed-thru, and this movie goes on forever. Still, if you're not familiar with Durang or if you can watch this without any preconceived notions, there are some very funny moments, and Christopher Guest, as always, is priceless.

Suffice it to say, Altman totally botches Chris Durang's first stage to screen transfer by inflicting his insidious sense of style and humor -- which, while sometimes a hoot (MASH and NASHVILLE)-- here are constantly at odds with Durang's sardonic characters and quirky phrasing. Oddly though, there are super perfs by Glenda Jackson and Tom Conti. Funny line about SUNDAY BLOODY SUNDAY in stageplay is retained here despite Ms. Jackson's participation in the scene ("You remember...that English actress.") Altman's final pull-out is stunningly creative and confounding. What the...??? Sum-up: patrons at multiplex walk through door with sign over it simply reading "THERAPY". Indeed.