The Passenger by Michelangelo Antonioni.
War correspondent Jack Nicholson takes another man's identity.
Of all the slow and rambling films from the seventies, this must be one of the slowest and ramblingest. I suppose it has something to do with existentialism. Nicholson is solid, some of the other actors are weak. It's really a bit too arty for my taste. The famous, long take at the end, though, makes the film almost, almost!, worth sitting through. "What do you see?"
Two-Lane Blacktop by Monte Hellman
James Taylor and Dennis Wilson are racing Warren Oats. Also, there's a girl.
The characters are completely uninteresting. Either they talk car technical gobbledygook or they're saying things like "You can never go too fast." or "We're just passing through." The old existential thing again, or is the film trying to say something about America? Visually, the film looks great, but it's kind of boring, actually. But then again, so are most cultfilms.