WARNING: REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS. DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU'VE SEEN THE FILM.

Down and Out in Beverley Hills is a comedy, which, bizarrely, gets funnier every year.

Whereas it's release saw it as a fairly standard screwball farce, time sees it more and more as a parody of vain 80s obsessions. Among the targets are the growing trends for therapists, jogging, alternative religions, designer drugs and fashion diets.

Richard Dreyfuss is perfect as Dave Whiteman, the nonplussed businessman in the centre of the chaos going on around him. Whereas in some movies the "cute dog" would be irritating, even this element is satisfying thanks to the open hatred he and Dreyfuss displays towards one another. I particularly like the scene where, unable to wreck Whiteman's sexual encounter with his mistress, the dog vindictively sets off the burglar alarm. Another nice touch is an early spoof reference to "Close Encounters of the Third Kind", which of course starred Dreyfuss in the lead role. Closer inspection of the film reveals that it's also a lot wittier than you remembered.

Bette Midler's meditating, shallow and indulgent Barbara acts a light counterpoint to the social conscience thrown up by Nick Nolte's tramp, Jerry. Jerry's entry into the household, 35 minutes in, initiates a radical change in all the characters, with Jerry seducing all three women in Dreyfuss' life, helping his son to out himself, and taming his dog.

What makes this film a little bit special is the slightly darker, thoughtful edge it portrays. While it admittedly doesn't see through all the issues it throws up, this is a more intelligent than average comedy, with neatly drawn characters and a satisfying resolution.

I visited a deli on Rodeo Drive just before this movie was released and was staggered by the uniformity in grooming. It was like a small-town high school in the 1950s. All the women looked alike. Beautiful. Their long hair fluffy, each strand curled like Top Ramen. (Okay, okay. I lack the vocabulary. Excuse me.) They all seemed to wear the same dark rough-knit long-sleeved sweaters, tight Levis, and leather boots. This is what one kills for? The privilege of wearing a uniform? Paul Mazursky has got the milieu down pat and he skewers it. I haven't seen the French original but, though it may be different, it's probably not funnier than this version.

I'll skip the story except to say that it's about a homeless man (Nick Nolte) who is taken in by a wealthy dysfunctional family, and he straightens everyone out by giving them what they want -- as he puts it. Some gags are funnier than others, helped along by Mazursky's direction. When the spoiled, bored wife has an orgasm with the bum, she screams so loudly that the neighbors a block away turn to listen. A flock of pigeons is frightened out of its tree. I can't think of another movie that features a psychiatric veterinarian.

The climax, unfortunately, is more silly than funny, as if nobody could think of an ending that would stop what's already gone by. Mazursky had the same problem with "Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice," at the end of which the sting of genuine phoniness gives way completely to fantasy and everyone does a ring dance to "What The World Needs Now Is Love..." In "Down and Out in Beverley Hills," a party ends with the accidental setting off of a fireworks display and everyone jumping into the pool. You almost wince at the desperation behind this scene.

And then, in a denouement, when the bum decides to leave with the family dog, the whole family and their servants follow him into the mews behind the mansion and beg him with their eyes to come back, which he does quickly enough. Sure, it's a happy ending, but just exactly what is going to happen when Nolte returns after he's been exposed as a lying, manipulative, lazy scuzzbag who has given the son permission to be a transvestite and has been doing both his host's wife and daughter? All he had with him when he first entered the family was a pocket full of rocks. This time he's got a lot of baggage.

Still, it's a light-hearted and engaging comedy, and none of the acting hurts a bit. Aside from the doggy's psychiatrist, I thought Little Richard was the most memorable character, especially when he complains about how much longer it takes the police to respond to HIS emergency alarm than his white neighbors'. (The dog chases him away, tearing at his golden robe.) Dreyfus is quite good too, reminding me of his performance as the exasperated and finally mad psychiatrist in "What About Bob?" Mazursky wisely avoided any attempt to insinuate overt signs of "seriousness" into the screenplay. A comedy doesn't need dark undertones to be successful, and this is successful.

Barbara (Bette Midler) and Dave Whiteman (Richard Dreyfuss) are a wealthy Beverly Hills couple. He makes clothes hangers and is sleeping with the maid Carmen (Elizabeth Peña). She's obsessed with gurus and new age stuff. Their son Max is bitter with them and always filming with his camera. Their daughter Jenny (Tracy Nelson) is away at college with eating issues. The family is weird Hollywood and even the dog has a psychiatrist. Jerry Baskin (Nick Nolte) is a bum. His dog has left him. He tries to drown in Whitemans' pool. Dave rescues him and invites the not-so-grateful homeless man to stay. Orvis Goodnight (Little Richard) is the next door neighbor.

It's interesting that grumpy Nick Nolte is not likable at the beginning. It's also interesting that he becomes more likable as Dave becomes more angry at him. At first, it concern me where the movie was going with the character. It may not hit with big laughs but it's biting in skewering the Hollywood stereotypes. In the end, it's a fun time with some memorable characters.