Harry is not the only thing that should be scratched in this plastic satire about inconsequential people. It begins with a slide that announces, "the film you're about to see is a speed fantasy," which refers to the various drugs taken by Harry, a frog-mouthed middle-aged man who lives off his wife and whose life is filled with fashionable, empty women. He casually kills one of them after his wife makes love with her on their living room floor, and cracks jokes while he buries her body in the backyard of their home. The story is a tasteless to conglomeration of ad-libbed dialogue, slick direction, and a few nude scenes. The untalented cast is as amateurish in their acting as the writer is about his characters. Ken Lauber's decent musical score is the only plus.