Okay, here's the deal. Sometimes, I just like to kick back to that third notch on my Barcalounger (y'know, the notch that's almost prone like a bed, but not quite) and remember the good old days. I catch myself sighing into my Rum & Cherry Coke, brushing an occasional tear from my cheek, and wishing some things had never changed.

Remember when you could get into the movies for three bucks? A drink and a snack treat could be had for an additional two. There were only three screens in the huge theaters, and the best of them still had just the one big screen. The marquees had lots of neon. The concession workers could add and subtract, and they knew how to fill a cup without spilling half of it. You didn't stick to the floors, and you didn't have to check your seat for random acts of chocolate terrorism.

Ahhhhh. But that was long ago. Thoughts then turn to just a few years ago. Remember when Martin Short was actually funny?

There was a time when you could count on Martin Short to send you into hysterics. I've spent many a late night, watching SCTV, and laughing myself into Depends Undergarments at Ed Grimley, Katharine Hepburn, Irving Cohen, Billy McKay, Brock Linahan. Jackie Rogers, Jr., the king of albino Vegas, was a personal favorite. The laughs continued when he took many of these gems and created many new ones at "Saturday Night Live," for one glorious season back in 1984.

Alas, his film career had been a blindfolded run through a minefield. I will use my utmost restraint and let Three Fugitives, The Three Amigos, and Pure Luck speak for themselves, if they are not off festering in some Blockbuster Video graveyard. I pray you smell the sarcasm when I speak of the laugh-riot combo of Short and that fountain of giggles, Charles Grodin, in the cow patty known as Clifford. The closest thing to good that Marty has even brushed against before this year were his two turns as the wedding director/decorator Franck in Steve Martin's Father of the Bride series. (I take that back - I liked Short in The Big Picture, but, how bad can you be in less than fifteen minutes of screen time?)

Now, dear patients, imagine my reluctance to tell you that ol' Martmeister is about the best thing in the new movie, A Simple Wish.

Short plays Murray, a fairy godmother (apparently they have an affirmative action program - who knew?) who is summoned to Earth by 7-year-old Anabel, played by the sparkling Mara Wilson. Anabel's wish is for her actor father (Robert Pastorelli) to get his dream job on Broadway. But, first, Anabel and Murray have to defeat the evil Claudia, played by Kathleen Turner. Claudia is a mean witch who is trying to steal all of the fairy godmother's wands. And, we wouldn't want that, now, would we?

What a great movie for kids, huh? True enough, if this thing had any direction whatsoever. What we do get is a ninety-minute excuse for some sitcom-quality effects, a lot of evil-laugh stuff from Turner, by way of every other actress that has ever played a witch, and, thankfully, a few flashes of comic brilliance from Short. This sprinkling of glitter, however shiny, does nothing to push this movie into the realm of watchability. Instead, it only makes one realize how flawed this movie really is.

The normally-funny Pastorelli used to be a bright spot among the ho-hum existence of Murphy Brown. Here, he's sleepwalking through a subplot concerning a too-long joke about a musical version of A Tale of Two Cities and a haughty producer (read: Andrew Lloyd Weber and his musicals. Wow. I love satire....). And, speaking of remembering when, anybody remember when Kathleen Turner was a beautiful and talented actress? At least somebody has finally introduced her to a salad bar instead of the pastry cart. She still has a voice that could smoke up a pool room, but she has sadly spent way too much time wondering when another Body Heat will fall in her lap. It's almost sad to see her wasting away in something like this. It only adds to the theory that House of Cards may have been her swan song.

And, does anybody remember when director Michael Ritchie could be counted on to provide a good comedy? I hate to think that The Bad News Bears was Ritchie at the top of his form, but he's dang sure not going out of his way to prove anybody wrong. He's running on empty here, coasting through a lackluster script, seemingly praying that Marty can conjure up a bellylaugh or two to make this movie work. Well, Marty does everything he can with what he's given, but no amount of life preservers was gonna keep this thing from drowning under predictable jokes and cute "fairy" magic.

Marty, buddy, you're at a crossroads here. You were almost back to form in Jungle 2 Jungle. You were funny, your timing was back, you zinged us with some major pratfalls. You're a beacon in the fog of this half-hearted affair. Spend some time with your agent and read a few scripts before you sign your name to the next contract. You can't afford another Captain Ron, and there's not too many other ways Steve Martin can bail you out.

It's time for you to spread your wings and fly, TinkerMarty. We're clapping our hands. We believe in you. Don't let us down again.