Weekday morning family pageantry is especially strange and musical in this film.
The teenage daughter, seen only five times, is nervy and concerned, and alert to adult misgivings in all the slight ways teenage daughters are.
A mine of fantastic winter coats—efficient, dutiful cuts, warm and well lined, tie-waists for quick disrobing, and deep colors to offset pale, gossamer types.
The requisite amount of close-ups of Elliott Gould’s pulpy bottom lip and black back hair.
The way words seem to roll out of his mouth like marbles.
As an angry giant, chairs and books, telephones and women, look miniature in comparison to his frame.
That undeniably filmic quality of small towns: a trove of sleuthing crackpots. One old lady in particular, who in the wake of two lovers reconciling, returns and snoops—arching her neck as her purse swings slightly from her forearm.
