The story here isn't bad - it's a decent reincarnation tale - but J. Lee Thompson's direction is remarkably lacking in atmosphere. I wish he'd done this in his late 50s prime, in a cramped set in black and white with Tony Quayle or someone like that.
Michael Sarrazin is a handsome man and a competent actor but isn't a star - he can't hold the screen. At least, not for me. Jennifer O'Neill is stunning - Thompson knew how to shoot a pretty girl - and an ideal femme fetale.
Margot Kidder feels under-utilised - I wonder if maybe she and ONeill could have swapped roles. O'Neil could've played enigmatic and mysterious better, perhaps. Ah, it doesn't matter. That's not the problem with the film. It has washed out 70s TV movie look. It feels like a movie of the week apart from the odd flourish like middle aged Kidder (grey hair) masturbating over a memory of being raped when younger, if I have that right. There's a bit of toplessness in this.
Cornelia Sharpe is Sarrazin's girlfriend who disappears from the film. Why? Why not have her killed or something exciting? Paul Hecht's doctor also feels as though he could use another twist.
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