Grab a thesaurus. Look up the word "bad." See those words listed? There you have my review of the absolutely atrocious screen version of the 1960s TV sitcom. The Martian in question (Christopher Lloyd) becomes the "favorite" of TV news producer Tim O'Hara, who reluctantly allows the alien (who passes himself off as Tim's "Uncle Martin") and his living, talking space suit to live with him as they repair their damaged spaceship. Certainly some suspension of disbelief is in order, but there was one thing that kept on bugging me while watching this film: just where exactly was the Martian heading if he didn't want to land on earth? It makes no sense.

Not that sense should be the priority of director Donald Petrie and writers Sherri Stoner and Deanna Oliver--their main concern should be laughs. But there are none to be had in this tedious turkey, which uses a lot of admittedly diverting (but not diverting _enough_) effects work in a futile attempt to hide the clunkiness of the script and, worst of all, the performances. Lloyd is insufferably obnoxious and smug; Daniels is a complete blank; Daryl Hannah (as Daniels's devoted camera operator) is even worse. But as bad as they are, they don't come close to the abysmal, forced work of Elizabeth Hurley. She's a born straightwoman, yet she's called on to actually _be_ funny as bitchy reporter Brace Channing--and she has no clue _how_, showing no sense of comic timing whatsoever. It's not a pretty sight---a statement that can be applied to the entire waste of celluloid that is _My_Favorite_Martian_.