Bad movies whose plots include a logical endpoint ought to earn a few extra points for courtesy. It's a pretty safe bet, for instance, that Trial And Error won't last long after Michael Richards scores a "not guilty" verdict for his client, or that Porky's Revenge won't spend much time sorting through the aftermath once the heroes have thwarted Porky's attempt at vengeance. Sometimes, it's good to have a reminder that a film will only last so long. So it goes with What's The Worst That Could Happen? Martin Lawrence, once again cast as a good-hearted thief, spends 90 minutes hatching increasingly elaborate schemes to retrieve a lucky ring stolen by ruthless millionaire Danny DeVito—and to end the movie in the process, a side effect that makes it easy to cheer for his success. Based on one of Donald Westlake's Dortmunder books, the series previously adapted as vehicles for Robert Redford (The Hot Rock), George C. Scott (The Bank Shot), and Gary Coleman (Jimmy The Kid), the film seems to have been assembled out of half-remembered bits of Westlake's world. Director Sam Weisman (George Of The Jungle) piles misadventures on top of mishaps and throws in one colorful character after another, but the comedy never fizzes and the excitement never builds. Lawrence seems particularly at a loss, coming alive only during his inexplicably popular disguise routines, and looking penned-in the rest of the time. Even his mugging comes off as muted. But just about everyone in the curiously flat, TV-like film seems out of place, from John Leguizamo as Lawrence's partner in crime to Glenne Headly as DeVito's I Ching-consulting assistant. Only William Fichtner, playing a dandyish gay stereotype of the sort not seen in decades, stands out. His presence seems as incongruous as that of a Vietnam protestor or a flapper, and What's The Worst That Could Happen? could use more of him. Without the capacity to be funny, clever, or entertaining, the movie might have done well to settle for weird.