Okay, pop that tape in the VCR, adjust the tracking just so… remember that slightly snowy picture on the old CRT? Let's talk about a flick that probably graced more than a few rental shelves back in the day, promising prime Richard Pryor chaos: 1987's Critical Condition. This wasn't one of Pryor's most celebrated outings, perhaps, but slide it into the machine late at night, and you might find a certain frantic energy that feels distinctly of its time.
The premise alone screams high-concept 80s: Kevin Lennihan (Pryor), a fast-talking con artist trying to smooth-talk his way out of serious jail time by faking insanity, finds himself accidentally transferred from a swanky private facility to a severely underfunded public hospital psych ward. Just his luck, right? But wait, it gets better (or worse for Kevin). A massive hurricane hits, knocking out the power, locking down the hospital, and leaving Lennihan mistaken for a competent incoming doctor. Suddenly, the guy faking crazy is the sanest person in charge of utter pandemonium.
Pryor in the Pressure Cooker
Let's be honest, the main draw here is Richard Pryor. By '87, the undisputed king of stand-up was deep into his movie career, but this period also coincided with health challenges, including his MS diagnosis around 1986. While some might say the volcanic energy of his earlier work feels a bit more contained here, Pryor's unique gift for panicked reaction comedy is still front and center. Watching Lennihan try to bluff his way through medical emergencies he has zero clue how to handle – diagnosing patients based on overheard soap opera plots, desperately trying to interpret X-rays – is where the film finds its comedic engine. It's Pryor's frantic eyes and sputtering delivery carrying scenes that might otherwise fall flat. He sells the sheer terror and absurdity of the situation, even when the script feels a bit stitched together.
A Hospital Held Together by Duct Tape (and Movie Magic)
What really gives Critical Condition its specific flavour is the setting. The film plunges us into a sprawling, decaying urban hospital that feels genuinely overwhelmed before the blackout hits. There's a tangible sense of chaos here that feels grounded, even amidst the comedic exaggerations. Much of this atmosphere likely comes from the use of locations like the infamous, and now demolished, Overbrook Hospital in New Jersey – a place with its own spooky history that lends an authentic layer of grime and desperation. This isn't a sterile, brightly lit TV medical drama set; it feels worn, stressed, and on the verge of collapse, perfectly mirroring Lennihan's predicament.
Director Michael Apted, a filmmaker more known for prestige dramas like Coal Miner's Daughter (1980) or the ambitious Up documentary series, might seem an unusual choice for a Pryor comedy. You don't necessarily see a distinct auteurial stamp, but he handles the escalating chaos competently. He keeps the pace moving, juggling the various subplots – including a dangerous escaped patient and Lennihan's burgeoning connection with the dedicated administrator Rachel (Rachel Ticotin, who holds her own against Pryor's energy, not long before she'd tangle with Schwarzenegger in 1990's Total Recall) and his interactions with the suspicious Dr. Foster (Rubén Blades, bringing his usual grounded intensity).
Retro Fun Fact: The script reportedly went through a few hands, including brothers Denis and John Hamill (siblings of renowned journalist Pete Hamill) and Clair Noto. Sometimes you can feel that slight unevenness, a sense that different comedic ideas are jostling for space. But maybe that slightly patched-together feel just adds to the VHS charm?
Is the Diagnosis Still Good?
Look, Critical Condition isn't a flawless film. Some of the jokes land harder than others, and the plot mechanics occasionally creak under the strain. It received pretty lukewarm reviews upon release and didn't exactly set the box office alight (grossing around $18 million). It often gets lost in the shuffle of Pryor's extensive filmography.
But watching it now, there's an undeniable appeal. It’s a snapshot of 80s high-concept comedy – a slightly frantic, sometimes uneven, but ultimately watchable vehicle built entirely around its star's singular comedic talent. The practical feel of the hospital chaos, the pre-CGI grit, and Pryor's desperate energy create a specific kind of nostalgic enjoyment. You can almost smell the ozone from the overworked hospital equipment... and maybe the slightly dusty scent of the video store aisle where you first found it.
VHS Heaven Rating: 6/10
Why this score? It gets points purely for Richard Pryor doing his thing, the effectively chaotic hospital setting, and a solid dose of 80s premise absurdity. It loses points for an uneven script and not quite reaching the heights of Pryor's best work. It’s a perfectly decent late-night VHS discovery.
Final Thought: In an era before slick digital effects smoothed over every rough edge, Critical Condition offers a dose of pleasingly frantic, practically staged chaos, proving that sometimes, the best special effect was just Richard Pryor looking utterly terrified. Definitely worth a nostalgic revisit if you remember renting this one back in the day.