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This made one of only two movies I have ever walked out of in my entire life (and I have been to hundreds). After about the 728,894th shriek out of Dyan Cannon's huge bimbo mouth, *I* felt like shrieking hysterically, reaching into the screen, taking the rustiest and dullest knife I could find, and slicing of HER head. Cranky should have seen this first--it would have definently got eight sticks of dynamite to mercifully disintegrate the hapless craniums. This film was the poorest excuse for acting I have ever seen. The final straw was the singing, colorless decapitated heads. That's when I finally had enough, departing the theater with my coat, my smokes, and what was left of my liquefied mind.
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