Altman's excursion into Bergman territory is a symbol-laden exploration of personality, highly reminiscent of the Swedish master's "Persona." But Altman's version is memorable in its own right, especially for the stunning performance of Shelly Duvall as Millie, a dippy working girl who takes her style cues from McCall's magazine. I haven't been able to get this performance out of my head in the 22 years since I first saw it. The scene where she plans a dinner party for friends is one the most poignant I've ever seen. And who will ever forget the way her yellow skirt always gets caught in her car door (I'd love to know who came up with that touch -- Altman, Duvall, or serendipity?) For that matter, I can't even forget her mustard-yellow car ("French mustard, not American.") Sissy Spacek is nearly as memorable in her supporting performance as Pinky (or is it Mildred?), Millie's childlike roommate. And Janice Rule, Woman No. 3, is consummately enigmatic. Some of Altman's flourishes seem self-consciously arty, and the plot takes some bizarre turns, but this movie is never less than fascinating. I was ecstatic to find it on PBS last night after trying in vain to track it down for many years (needless to say, I taped it). The only major flaw in this movie is the music soundtrack, one of the most irritating and pseudo-portentous scores ever composed.
