David Carradine works small miracles with his loose-jointed, shuffle-footed, hands-in-pockets postures; and his Woody Guthrie impression becomes, at the same time, a generalized Depression impression, nicely self-contained. The higher-up creative people are more overbearing in their similar efforts to hit and hold a one-note Depression mood. Hal Ashby's direction keeps the narrative at a monotonous, singsong cadence, with every incident treated as an aside, a murmur, a passing remark. And Haskell Wexler's arty, dusty brown image always seems to be filtered through a screen door, forty intervening years, and a fuzzy memory. With Ronny Cox, Melinda Dillon, Randy Quaid. (1976) — Duncan Shepherd
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