italy and spain, losing their money, passports, and minds as they deal with births, deaths, and marriages. the internet scares me. you could be talking to anyone. i mean, i could be- a serial killer — i'm not! if you stand this next is something like shirley valentine — in which a middle—aged housewife finds a new lease on life while holidaying in greece — then off the rails really pales by comparison. there's little of the wit, grit, or bittersweet humour of that willy russell—scripted gem in this ragbag of romantic cliches and cut—and—paste pop songs — which, for all its eye—catching locations, feels more like a tv movie than a feature. to be clear, off the rails won't be troubling the oscars, or even the baftas. but i'd be lying if i claimed that this didn't touch my dark heart at all. not least because it's pretty much impossible to spend 90 minutes in the company of this very likeable cast — which also includes small roles for ben miller and franco nero — without it raising a chuckle or a tear. and, i confess to both. moreover, there's something