Tuesday Weld is the child-like woman in whose silly pussycat consciousness the backward, forward, now it’s now, now it isn’t now action takes place. In her one clear decision she is casually cruel to the young man (Philip Proctor) who adores her while receptive to the curiously charming drop-by-without-calling stud played by Jack Nicholson.
Weld has many scenes in the park with an itinerant magician, supposedly a father image. Of the many weirdo roles played in his time by Orson Welles this may be the prize example.
Unrelated to the story in Weld’s head is hippie girl’s rambling account of her feelings adroitly soliloquized by Gwen Welles. This is rather touching, quite lucid and uninterrupted, though wildly neurotic.
All this deliberate experimentation puts a heavy burden upon the viewer. Hardly a scene is fully played out, hardly an explanation provided. It would seem that writer-director Henry Jaglom has plunged in over his own depth. It is like a gymnastic symphony conductor over-personalizing the music.