They Might Be Giants starts off splendidly and hilariously, with George C. Scott at his intense and imposing best as a former jurist who thinks he’s Sherlock Holmes, and Joanne Woodward charmingly harried as the psychiatrist who’s delighted to encounter a ‘classic paranoid’, and who just happens to be named Dr (Mildred) Watson.
After that it’s all downhill. It’s not only unfunny, but increasingly preachy and sentimental – hammering at the cliched tale of the good-hearted nut who’s basically saner, and certainly nicer, than the pack of meanies who attempt to defeat him.
Scott and Woodward battle the script valiantly. Scott has the easier time of it by virtue of his character’s self-contained system. But both are buried eventually under a pile of loose ends, and they’re not helped much either by Anthony Harvey’s visually unimaginative direction.