James Caan, in a stuck-on-himself performance that appears not to tolerate or even to notice anyone else in the movie, portrays a modern master at the title trade. Despite his cold-bloodedness, despite his lone-wolfishness, despite his residence in the Joliet state penitentiary for most of his adult life, he still hankers after the standard middle-class dreams of success and happiness, the same as anyone who has grown up watching Father Knows Best and Ozzie and Harriet. These dreams he has visualized for himself in a postcard-sized collage assembled from magazine cut-outs of a house in the suburbs, a mother and child, and such, carried at all times in his wallet and frequently taken out for inspection and inspiration. His tantrum of arson, explosives and gunfire, upon his ultimate disillusionment, seems a bit overblown. So, for that matter, does the entire show, flashily directed and cryptically written by newcomer Michael Mann, with a piercing Tangerine Dream musical score that seems competitive with, rather than supportive of, the action. Tuesday Weld, Willie Nelson, Robert Prosky. (1981) — Duncan Shepherd
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