Carl Reiner tries his hand at character comedy with this 1984 vehicle for Steve Martin and Lily Tomlin, whose plot suggests 30s screwball spiked with bad acid: Tomlin is a sickly, spoiled heiress who arranges to have her soul projected into the conspicuously healthy body of Victoria Tennant, but something goes haywire and she ends up inhabiting the right-hand side of lawyer Martin. The premise is less than elegant, but Reiner gives it a surprisingly disciplined development, staying within the limits of a self-defined plausibility and letting the gags grow organically from the situation. Martin has become a superb physical comic, and Tomlin brings some unexpected warmth to a cruelly written part. A manic fuzziness takes over in the last reel and spoils some of the pleasure, but it’s still a sympathetic effort.