Set in 1964, this oddity could, apart from its four-letter words, have been made then too. The whole enterprise seems old-fashioned, its disparate elements coming across with curiously muffled effect, and its social sentiments getting swamped by a routine plot about the local psycho coming home from the pen and kidnapping the Bronx belle, given the gamest of tries by Jodie Foster. Not that the plot helps her much: it certainly isn't too likely, for instance, that she would keep an appointment with a homicidal maniac by a deserted swimming pool at midnight. But then none of the characters here is any too bright. Some of the dialogue is ludicrous, and some plain peculiar, while the supporting acting ranges from the eccentric to the bemused. The two penguins in the plot, though, are nice, and deeply talented.

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