A Fish Called Wanda (1988)

A Fish Called Wanda is the rare crime comedy that’s as sharp as a lockpick and as giddy as a farce, turning a simple diamond caper into a high-wire act of wit, lust, and beautifully timed betrayal. Charles Crichton keeps the pace brisk and the tone deliciously mischievous, letting every scene click into place with the precision of a well-planned heist—only funnier. John Cleese brings dry, civilized panic, Jamie Lee Curtis radiates confident chaos, and Kevin Kline goes gloriously off the leash in a performance that practically dares you not to laugh. It does play a little mean and broad at times, and the R-rated language and sexual gamesmanship aren’t for everyone, but if you want a smart, crowd-pleasing classic that never stops escalating, this one’s a jewel.

A Fish Called Wanda is aiming for a slick, farcical crime-comedy where greed, lust, and incompetence collide, and when it works it’s genuinely sharp—Kevin Kline’s unhinged energy and the cast’s timing can still land. That said, the humor is very much of its era and very much in John Cleese’s wheelhouse: lots of talky setups, verbal sparring, and escalating misunderstandings that can feel more “explained” than shown. If you’re expecting a fast, modern heist romp or edgier, more anarchic comedy, you may find it a bit predictable and oddly polite between the bursts of chaos. But if you enjoy British farce, character-based antics, and a crime plot that’s mainly a delivery system for performance and timing, it’s still an easy recommendation.