WRONGFULLY ACCUSED

SYNOPSIS:
Handsome superstar violinist Ryan Harrison (Leslie Nielsen) is at the height of his brilliant career when he is vamped into a brief but sizzling affair with wealthy society lady and temptress Lauren Goodhue (Kelly Lebrock) who sets him up as the patsy in her plot to kill her husband, portable-potty tycoon Hibbing Goodhue (Michael York), who has uncovered her plan to assassinate the UN Secretary General (Gerard Plunkett). But Harrison is wrongfully accused of the murder, is viciously attacked by the one-armed, one-legged, one-eyed killer (Aaron Pearl) and escapes from his prison bus in order to solve the murder, prove his innocence and keep one step ahead of the relentless all-knowing human bloodhound, US Marshal Fergus Falls (Richard Crenna).

"Life getting you down? Here’s a harmless remedy that will cost you far less than your shrink, and will quite frankly, deliver far more positive and instant results. Wrongfully Accused is inane, ludicrous, perverse and pointless with a plot that doesn’t matter. Yet, it is improbable and imbecilic enough to grab you by the funny bone and inject you with a jolly good dose of escapism. The humour is crude, rude, lewd and sometimes shrewd; the styles range from slapstick, farce, parody to thinking man. And film lovers will delight in spotting the spoofy references to the many movies – from classics like Casablanca and North by Northwest to the more recent Usual Suspects, Copland, Titanic, Fugitive and Braveheart to mention a few. And Leslie Nielsen is (as the credits rightly point out), Leslie Nielsen. And how can we ever forget it. This is the same successful Naked Gun style of character that Nielsen effects with such skill and flair. From his handsome, superstar violinist (whose pizzicato is performed plucking strings with his tears) to the on-the-run fugitive whose prison bus slides on a banana peel… each circumstance brings him opportunities to immerse us in a totally asinine world. The strength of this successful formula is that all the action is played dead straight and not pushed for laughs, and that also goes for Bill Conti’s splendid dramatic score. The pace is fast and furious and you have to watch carefully to appreciate all the small touches, which to my mind are the best bits. Like the cinema usher whose torch becomes a Starwars-like light sabre when showing a patron to his seat; the car about to be blown up with the number plate ‘UH OH’; and lines like ‘a sister is like a brother except you do each other’s hair…’. The computer which gives you a jewish joke while you’re waiting for your document to print out, fancied my tickle. Wait for the end credits – the mindless nonsense interspersed between the cast and crew lists is off the wall."
Louise Keller