THE GLUE FACTORY

A robot doctor makes the rounds in this wacky medical fantasia.

Mount Sinai Hospital’s newest intern, Dr. Alan Rossum, is too good to be true–or at least human. He’s “fireproof, germ-retardant, buoyant, unstainable, extremely flexible and even shrink-resistant,” can diagnose most patients just by looking at them, and is already an expert in every specialty. His preternatural good looks and comforting bedside manner provoke all women to throw themselves at him, though his heart belongs to the elevator computer with the lilting loudspeaker. Best of all, in the eyes of the cost-conscious hospital management that bought him, he’s cheap, doesn’t mind odd hours and never goes on strike. But even when his leg is blown off and he must go hopping across the grounds to retrieve it, no one, aside from a ten-year-old boy in the psych ward, particularly notices that Rossum is an android. He hardly stands out at a place where the top surgeon is blind and dismembered corpses are spliced back together and reanimated. His presence does, however, arouse the wrath of the mysterious M.A.F.–either the Medical Anti-Defamation Foundation or the Mobsters Against Fysicians, according to a high-priced abbreviations consultant–a terrorist group that launches high-concept attacks on the hospital’s board. One director is permanently magnetized by an MRI machine while another is pushed into a giant photocopier and emerges with a compulsive urge to mimic everyone he encounters. Simmons, an internist and author of The Z-Papers (1976, etc.), orchestrates the hijinks with a healthy disregard for rhyme and reason. His surreal gags puts one in mind of Douglas Adams, had he written A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Medical Center. (A stint in Mount Sinai’s extraterrestrial’s ward makes for one of Dr. Rossum’s most hilarious adventures.) The result is a pixilated comedy that’s as light as a balloon filled with laughing-gas.

Raucous, imaginative entertainment.