The tempestuous directorial debut of scriptwriter James (The Gambler) Toback, about a confused young man who vacillates between the career choices and value systems represented by his Italian-Catholic Mafioso father and his Jewish classical-pianist mother. It is every bit as ridiculous as it sounds. Harvey Keitel, with his portable cassette-deck of rock-and-roll oldies and his hopped-up reactions to same, is the single most ridiculous thing about it; Jim Brown, whose late display of Black Machismo is too frightening to be merely ridiculous, is the least. The movie has had its admirers, among them Norman Mailer, who must have applauded the scene where Keitel, before making love to a woman, orders her to remove her diaphragm. (1978) — Duncan Shepherd
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