Lazy weekend outings with a diminutive middle-class man and his family, who endure car troubles, a bumpy afternoon cruise and a late afternoon stand-off with the traffic officer. It's all extremely basic, half-effort stuff from a visibly uninspired Charlie Chaplin. Unhappy with his professional situation and depressed by his personal one, the auteur is a sad clown going through the motions here, with a critical lack of creative energy. Of course, a bored genius can still negligently drop a few gems, and a passive Chaplin is still capable of better material than most. Case in point: a Greco-Roman title bout with an uncooperative piece of folding furniture. It goes on forever, but we never tire of it because the action is so effortlessly funny, still relatable after a hundred years. Pity the rest of the show doesn't flow as smoothly.