The giddy editing and photographic techniques give you an early sensation of motion sickness, and make you excessively grateful when the film settles down to its cornball plot contrivances about a wife, a husband, and a prepubescent daughter who go separate ways in the morning and return at night with a ream of silk, a pillbox, and a potted plant as mute testimony to their illicit afternoon dalliances. But the pressing question about this relic excavated from the year 1971 is whether, for her hottest fans, Jackie Bisset's nude scene is worth the bother. And the answer is positively. With Robert Powell, Per Oscarsson; directed by Philip Saville. (1971) — Duncan Shepherd
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