Okay, here's the deal. You know how some folks just make you laugh, no matter what they do or say? They just have a way about them that makes every little effort seem funny? How they can just clear their throat and it makes you snicker. Well, that's what Albert Brooks does to me. I remember being the only one in the room laughing my ass off during his short films on the early seasons of "Saturday Night Live," back when it was a comedy show and not a still-life.

Albert has a way of being the most likeable wise-acre in the world. Everyone around him is a little bit off, and he is the voice of all of us neurotic, hypochondriac, pleasantly cynical folks in the real world. His movies all have that same character to them, placed in different situations, and they're still funny. He invented and polished this point-of-view in his hardly seen early classics Modern Romance and Lost in America. With each outing since, as both an actor and a writer/director, he's perfected the voice of the jittery smart-alecks we wish we could speak with.

His films all have a quirky following among us cinema-folks, but he's never caught on bigtime with the masses. (In some ways, he should take that as a compliment.) His efforts are always terrific, but he works slowly, giving us new work only infrequently.

As the flop-sweating Aaron Altman in Broadcast News, Brooks managed to steal the movie from headliners William Hurt and Holly Hunter. One of the funniest movies I've ever seen, Defending Your Life, made a lot of critics laugh, and then disappeared to HBOblivion, the afternoon PG-only schedule that nobody ever tunes into. Another funny movie, The Scout, suffered from the worst case of terrible timing since Space Camp was released about the time Challenger blew up. The Scout, a movie about baseball, came out at the height of America's baseball strike and subsequent fan revolt.

Well, folks, Brother Albert's new movie, Mother, is a wonder. Not for any big screen effects, not because it has a hyped-up marketing campaign, but because it's real. It hits marks in everybody's life, and puts a funny spin on situations that give most people ulcers.

Albert's character, John Henderson, is going through his second divorce. He feels like his whole problem with women revolves around his relationship with his sweet, dominating Mother. To confront the issue, he moves back in with her, redecorating his old room to the way it was when he left, and living with the woman he thinks ruined his life.

Can you imagine what moving back in with your parents would be like, after being gone for twenty years? Hell, it takes a miracle from heaven and a lot of Valium-and-tequila chasers just to get me through a Christmas dinner with my folks. Long term cohabitation? I'd rather peel the skin off my feet with a carpet knife.

Damn if Albert doesn't make this harrowing event funny. He mixes the right amount of sentiment and irony to keep the thing from becoming a stupid yuk-fest, but he always keeps the timing perfect, letting things build, and releasing the flood with an Albert Brooks' sharp-ass line, or even just a word, or, best yet, that little Albert Brooks-confused look that absolutely destroys me.

Oh, and did I mention the casting coup of the century? Albert Brooks gave his script to a friend of his, who in turn gave it to her Mother to read, and the daughter talked the Mother into trying for the part. The friend? Carrie Fisher. The Mother? Debbie Reynolds.

Ms. Reynolds returns after an almost twenty-year hiatus, and she near about pilfers the show, stealing it from the unabashed movie thief himself, Brooks. If there ever were a perfect combination of sweetness, daffiness, and dominance, Debbie mixed it herself and poured a jugful on this picture. One can only hope the Academy elite keep their track record of honoring comebacks, and give Debbie a nomination for Best Actress.

If there is one thing wrong in the movie, it's the character of John's little brother, played by career-planning genius Rob Morrow. Rob, this is why you and David Caruso can't play well with others. You ain't that good, pal. Morrow's character is supposed to be an obnoxious little brat who has always gotten his way. Gee, Rob, what a stretch. His stilted delivery and twitchy little demeanor come across like he can't figure out what he's supposed to do. He looks like that football player in high school that got stuck in the Senior Play because he needed the extra credit to graduate. He's lost, out of place, and anybody could have played this part better. I would have loved to see Dennis Miller play the part, just to see the battle of titans, both vying for the title of Smart-Ass of the Year.

Mother is almost a faultless movie. Because of Rob Morrow, it becomes only an outstanding, must-see movie. That's a shame, because both Brooks and Debbie Reynolds deserve perfection. They hit it. Rob didn't. Albert, we've missed you. Debbie, we've missed you more. Both of you, come back soon.