In Heaven there is no beer. That's why we drink it here.

Heaven's also on the short end of a good violinist and a tuba player. And that's about all the conclusion I can draw from this strange little foray into the dialogue of ambiguity.

Joey Silvera who is to a Spinelli shoot what De Niro is to a Scorcese film, plays a guy who's run over by an 18-wheeler. I don't think that ever happened to De Niro, but I guess it's supposed to be divine retribution since Joey just talked down to his mother for wanting to borrow five thousand bucks. Joey offers her two —with strings attached— right before the truck makes it a big ten-four. Splat.

Joey's unceremonious removal from this world makes for one huge identity problem. Maybe you'd have a few mistaken notions, too, if you wind up in a place where musicians make "Moon River" sound like a glass sliver. Gloria Leonard, in a non-sex role, is kind of like heaven's answer to the answer-lady, but she could just as well be a pleasant coffee shop hostess in a Holiday Inn somewhere. She rambles on about "sustenance". Joey rambles on about the New York Knicks. She calls him "Valentino". His name is "Daniel". Then Joey watches couples having basic sex —Candice Heart is a treat. Joey even enjoys some with the lovely and certifiably wild Angela Summers which is the feature's highlight. Then Joey's "father" appears eating a bagel. I thought he'd be eating his heart out for betting on the Knicks.

Give the feature points for set design and technical quality, but it boils down to this: Questions and ramblings about man's existence —they work for Harold Pinter or Samuel Beckett, but they're a little incongruous and heavy handed when used in this type of framework, especially where the punch line has K.C. Williams eating Savannah out —and a bit on the non-aggressive side at that. Sustenance Sustenance!