Just a loose-limbed mystery with no place to go. It ambles along at a lazy gait, and has a regiment of people doing the oddest things for no real reason. This is built on — or rather, is, formula number 11: i.e., the pearl eye is snitched from Buddha by a souvenir-loving American. For twenty years after, strange Asiatic curses are hurled at a harmless New England family, all because of the cois-ed poll. Very childish.