Charming fluff farce that weaves towards big stuff, then jukes away from the heavy concepts every time.

Maybe could have been an enduring satire if Beatty wanted to push it that way. Just use this exchange as a blueprint for the whole film:

Former owner: He got my team. The son of a bitch got my team.
Advisor to former owner: What kind of pressure did he use, Milt?
Former owner: All I asked was sixty-seven million, and he said "OK."
Advisor to former owner: Ruthless bastard.

Nearly everyone in this movie is an asshole, not least Harold, and I cringe through the first half. If Lloyd wasn't so charming I don't know if I could do it at all. But that second half is tremendous.

All I really want, though, is a prequel/spin-off about the toothy, angry cop.

Like a gleeful satire based on an early Vertigo comics mini-series that never existed.

Tough truth: as an artist, you're probably shit.

End sequence captures the ineffable magic of creating music with kindred spirits.