This Southern-fried mishmash of action, comedy, and romance takes an everything-and-the-kitchen-sink approach to storytelling. Producers Arthur and Ava Gardner obviously designed Gator as little more than an opportunity for star and rookie director Burt Reynolds to display his unctuous charms and take a stab behind the camera. It's no surprise, then, that the results are so slapdash. Gator often seems like a completely different film from one scene to another. Reckless action set pieces alternate with broad, stereotype-driven humor, both punctuated by unexpected bursts of gauzy, chemistry-free sensuality. (Pity poor Lauren Hutton, reduced to feminist truisms and longing glances.) Unfortunately, such constant tonal shifts are way too much for one movie to bear -- even if that movie had a fresher plot and a smarter script than Gator. White Lightning, the previous entry in the series, was no cinematic tour de force, but at least it had the benefit of coming first. The fact that the franchise stopped dead in its tracks after this second installment should be all the evidence prospective viewers need to run far, far away.