Only the second entry in the series and already it seems exhausted. The spy-spoof plotting reeks of enervation and contempt; the film has the slipshod, careless air of late Abbott and Costello. (What's next, Renato and Albin Go to Mars?) The humor in Michel Serrault's drag act has become more pointedly antifemale, while the rhythms of his interaction with Ugo Tognazzi (dubbed sloppily into French) are of the most conventional funny man-straight man sort. Edouard Molinaro's direction is as hammeringly bad as the first time around, though he's increased the quota of soggy pathos (Serrault fussing about his age and looks) and upped the number of reaction shots from exasperated straights, thus doubling the sense of smug condescension toward his surgically desexed gay couple. With Michael Galabru.