A Los Angeles police detective (Stallone) awakens to find himself looking up the barrel of his own gun. "Go ahead," sneers the ominous voice behind the weapon, "make your bed."
Whew! It's only fuddled Mom (Getty), who has just cleaned her son's piece with household detergent. She is out from New Jersey (which has replaced Texas and Brooklyn as Hollywood's favorite laugh-track region), visiting her adorable baby boy and helping him (not!) to romance his adorable lieutenant (JoBeth Williams) and, as circumstances dictate, to run down a gang of firearms brokers.
As a spunky Golden Girl or as Sly's mom, Getty displays grating ways that make comprehensible Norman Bates's compulsion to matricide in Psycho. Williams, on the other hand, is much too good for this screwball clunker: It's like renting an old Three Stooges comedy and finding Susan Hayward getting her nose twisted by Moe. Stallone, wearing diapers in a dream sequence in which his mom berates him, is as amusing as the next punch-drunk club fighter. Still, it's probably the only chance you'll ever get to see an oedipal buddy movie or—be still, my heart—Sly himself in nappies. (PG-13)"