R.V. - Runaway Vacation

Few recollections of childhood bring a chill to the bone quite like those summer holidays spent crammed in a tent with your family, suffering the whims of the British weather.

Once the sun deigned to show itself, the mass exodus to the beach would bring its own catalogue of delights: Punch & Judy, swatting wasps away from molten ice cream, and the smell of calomine lotion smeared on sunburned shoulders.

Those same nightmarish memories flood back during R.V. - Runaway Vacation, Robin Williams' misfiring comic caper about the outrageous misfortunes that befall a dysfunctional family during their summer holiday.

One of the "hilarious" highpoints of Barry Sonnenfeld's film is Williams being drenched in the aromatic contents of an overflowing septic tank. He stinks, and sadly so does his picture.

The leading man's overpowering comic schtick (wild gesticulations, funny voices et al) cannot disguise the fatal flaws in Geoff Rodkey's screenplay, which limps painfully from one whimper to the next, punctuated by syrupy scenes of family bonding.

One of the two-dimensional characters speaks for us all when she whines, "I could actually throw up from how bored I am." In a moment of uncharacteristic restraint, the film doesn't follow through with an explosion of vomit.

R.V., or Relentlessly Vapid as it should be subtitled, falls apart well before Williams' recreational vehicle heads for the scrapyard.

The film harps on about the importance of family unity but doesn't sketch the characters in any detail, nor develop their relationships, as they career blindly into each obstacle.