This 1990 Hollywood formula comedy is a pleasant surprise. Arthur Hiller's role-reversal picture will never be accused of originality; it reiterates the ancient Prince and Pauper setup recycled from scores of other screen comedies, such as John Landis's 1983 Trading Places. But what it does, it does impeccably well. Hiller one-ups the Landis film and other similar efforts by retaining a gleeful congeniality throughout and resisting crassness and ugliness. Some critics responded favorably to Trading Places by comparing it to Frank Capra, but the overrated Landis film turns terribly dour and ugly. The breeziness, warmth, and sheer affability of this effort come much closer in spirit to the old Hollywood masterworks of social satire, such as My Man Godfrey; in fact, it's as if Hiller and co-scripters Jill Mazursky (the producer's daughter) and Jeff Abrams cross-pollinated Capra and Ernst Lubitsch. Only a Hollywood comedy could present a 37-time car thief and prison escapee (played by Jim Belushi) who is such a swell guy, and work out the mechanics of the plot so slickly that he slides right through the shaggy-dog plot without being detected as an imposter and reincarcerated. The film bears about as much relation to the real world as a Playboy pictorial. Half of it is just eye candy (such as Belushi's explorations of the Sharper Image-laden Malibu beach home where he crashes), and the ending terribly desperate. But there are enormous pleasures to be had here; we have fun watching the apish Belushi careen his way through Charles Grodin's business meetings, like an unmanned bulldozer, destroying everything (and everyone) in his path, as he salutes Grodin's snooty female client on the size of her cleavage, and refers to uber-powerful Japanese business mogul Sakamoto (Mako) as "Big Sak." Moreover, Grodin proves himself the master of the slow burn, as he gets pummeled, soiled, shoved into a dumpster, and eventually forced to wear ladies' pants and walk ten miles in the driving rain; the indignities he suffers are truly hilarious, and he turns in a finely modulated comic performance. Hiller and company grace this much underrated film with a gifted supporting cast, including Hector Elizondo, Anne de Salvo, Veronica Hamel, and the radiant Loryn Locklin.