Chilly examination of alienated New Yorkers is difficult to find on VHS, but it's worth the search for Shirley MacLaine's performance alone. She's quite sympathetic floating through this frigid sea of lost faces and souls. The film is slow (deliberately slow) and lugubrious, but also undeniably compelling. The horrors of the modern day (circa 1971) are well-depicted in scene after scene, and the fade-out offers no pat promises (and, amusingly, no hope). In her autobiography, MacLaine scathingly dismisses the film as one that "didn't work", blaming it on script problems. I agree the 'plot', such as it is, could've been stronger overall, but--as with all unconventional stories--the people, their emotions, and things they experience are just as important as the dialogue, and all of those elements here are provocative and well-observed. What a weird one this is! **1/2 from ****