Pauly Shore plays a jobless goof-off serving on a jury who insists on prolonging the deliberations, so he can remain in the hotel where he’s sequestered until his mother (Shelley Winters) and her fiance return from Las Vegas. (The other jurors have junky rooms, but he finesses an opulent suite by sneaking a plug for the hotel onto prime time TV.) Connoisseurs of inept direction a la Edward D. Wood Jr. should probably make a beeline to this stinker: TV veteran John Fortenberry doesn’t even have Wood’s sincerity or personality to help him plow through the sludge. Written by Neil Tolkin, Barbara Williams, and Samantha Adams with a cynical eye on (though nary a thought about) the O.J. Simpson trial, which was just getting started when the film went into production, this is simply another dumber-than-thou comedy designed to make white teenagers feel as fashionably marginal as everybody else. With Tia Carrere (appallingly wasted), Stanley Tucci, Brian Doyle-Murray, Abe Vigoda, Charles Napier, Richard Edson, and an uncredited Andrew Dice Claythe only member of the cast who seems right at home. (JR)