But as much as I'd like to sing its praises -- in the age-old tradition of Siskel & Ebert never bad-mouthing a movie made in their native Chicago -- I can't. Robodoc never gets off comic life-support.
The leering, Benny Hill-worthy sex jokes (Nurse Fonda Johnsons, anyone?); the wacky-tedious court trial (filmed in the Orange County History Center) aimed at taking down the "perfect" doctor; the Mr. Data movements of Robodoc himself -- none achieve much more than a smirk. Faustino is particularly ill-used, with not a single funny thing to say or do.
This feels like a failed sitcom pilot circa 1988, one the producers would have to clean up to put on the air after Married With Children. The racial stereotyping and R-rated sexual content is juvenile in the extreme, beneath even the recent lower-than-low standards of National Lampoon-sanctioned hooey.
Every movie that makes it to the finish line -- a theater -- is something of a miracle, and a real triumph of self-promotion and persistence. But in this case, all that effort seems misguided, even delusional. Was this ever funny, even as a script?