THE NAME NEIL SIMON has long been a successful drawing card for Broadway theaters. And though his Broadway hits have never been renowned for their depth of characterization or for the dramatic thrust of their plots, Simon's breezy style and witty one-liners have kept audiences entertained and coming back for more. But now New Yorker Simon has relocated--he has gone west, to Hollywood, where he has written his first original screenplay, Murder by Death, an affectionate spoof of popular detective fiction, and something of a change from the more urbane, comedy of manners subject material of his earlier stage works. But like the plays, Murder by Death follows the Simon "formula"--lots of gloss and not much substance--and suffers as a result.

Drawing freely from the classic characters of the whodunnit genre, Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot and Miss Marples, Dashiell Hammett's Sam Spade and Nick and Nora Charles, and Earl Derr Biggers's Charlie Chan are refurbished by Simon and his all-star cast, and introduced as Miss Marples (Elsa Lanchester), Milo Perrier (James Coco), Sam Diamond (Peter Falk), Dick and Dora Charleston (David Niven and Maggie Smith) and Sidney Wang (Peter Sellers). These, "the world's greatest detectives" have been brought together under one roof at the invitation of Mr. Lionel Twain, a fiendishly eccentric, rich, and rather repulsive murder mystery buff played by none other than Truman Capote. The occasion for this unlikely gathering of slueths is "dinner and a murder," and the opportunity for the egocentric host to demonstrate to his never-before-stumped guests that he too can play their game, and what is more, beat them at it.

This, the basic premise of the movie, is amusing and full to bursting with possibilities for parody. Certainly everything is there and ready to go, but somehow the production never gains much momentum. The problem is that it is all set-up and nothing more. Simon's jokes--the fuel that keeps his plays going--are clever enough, but of such an obvious and predictable nature they can't compensate for the lack of plot development. Luckily the film's cast is so extensive that by the time all the characters are introduced to the audience the film is more than half over. For in addition to the five famous detectives and their host, there are traveling companions, the most notable of whom is Eileen Brenan, who appears as Sam Diamond's loyal but abused Girl Friday. Attending to the guests is a blind butler named Bensonmum (Alec Guinness) and a deaf-mute cook (Nancy Walker).

Despite the fact that the screenplay leaves the actors with nowhere to go in their roles, the performances are virtually all first-rate. Especially enjoyable is Peter Falk as the hard-boiled Frisco detective, Sam Diamond, whose uncouth manner provides an entertaining contrast to the cocktailparty elegance of Dick and Dora Charleston, played to perfection by David Niven and Maggie Smith, and the genteel prissiness of James Coco as the corpulent Belgian detective, Milo Perrier. Peter Seller's performance as the continually proverb-coining Sidney Wang is decidedly bland, however, which comes as a surprise and disappointment, since his impersonations are often so uproariously funny, and the Oriental bit has, in the past, been one of his finest. Seller's acting may not be up to par, but more likely the material, not Seller's abilities, is to blame for this less than expected performance. Truman Capote, on the other hand, demonstrates absolutely no talent for acting--but then again not much acting is required for him to give a witless and repugnant parody of himself.

Eventually the promised murder does occur, the victim being one from the ranks of this celebrated cast. Those who remain among the living all become suspects, and Simon's denouement is a confusing collage of accusations, counter-accusations, and "now top this" solutions to the crime. But Simon's delineation of plot and motive (two rather important elements of a good murder mystery) is simply to weak and insubstantial to hold it all together. What results is an incomprehensible blur.