James Leo Herlihy's appealing tale about a misguided Texas stud (Jon Voight) who travels to Manhattan in order to sell his body to deprived city women and who rapidly sinks into a gutter companionship with a greasy, gimpy scrounger (Dustin Hoffman). Except, on occasion, for Voight's performance, the movie is awfully soft and squishy — the modish direction by John Schlesinger, the perpetual grandstanding by Hoffman, the mawkish harmonica music, the death's-door hallucination of a Florida paradise. (1969) — Duncan Shepherd
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