You are clobbered by the music. For such a gem – waiters coiffed, view nonpareil -- the music is a gross non-sequitur, inexplicable. It is the synthesizer music of budget lounge acts across the world, with an insistent, carnal beat, laced by sound effects from a grade B outer-space movie. It is sex music for robots that will play at the robot apocalypse. The volume has been set by a thirteen-year-old who has tied up his parents in the basement.