A flip piece of science-fiction misogyny. In the stereotyped wastelands of post-WWIII, man's best friend is still his dog, and woman is still his Garden of Eden undoer. (The dog's interior monologues and telepathic dialogues sound like a canine counterpart of Morris the Cat -- a dry wit, jaded, bored.) There is a Corman-ish grade-Z frugality about the filming in all-purpose Southwest desert locales; and yet L.Q. Jones's direction is not lacking in diligence and not lacking in pretensions toward the "offbeat" (e.g., a character named Fellini, a gallery of clownish painted faces, a volley of anti-America ironies). The venomous punchline, which must have been the prime incentive that kept the filmmakers plowing steadily through the shaggy-dog plot, is pretty much what you might expect from an "award-winning novella" by Harlan Ellison. With Don Johnson, Susanne Benton, and Jason Robards. (1976) — Duncan Shepherd
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