A seaman named Paul, on-leave for two weeks, returns to his grandfather's chicken ranch only to discover two women, Jill and Ellen, residing there instead; they welcome him in, but soon he begins lusting for Ellen, who is seen as sexually unfulfilled and is therefore drawn to this handsome stranger. This drives a wedge between the two ladies, whose close relationship is ultimately steeped in the hypothetical (they sleep in the same bed, but back to back). Mark Rydell directed this adaptation of D.H. Lawrence's novella, and he's infinitely helped along by beautifully desolate, wintry Toronto locales and by William Fraker's incredible cinematography. The three-person sturm and drang which develops is blanketed by ambiguities and eye-rolling symbolism, however the cast is first-rate. Keir Dullea's performance is flattened out a bit in the last third by Rydell, who has a penchant for cheap melodrama, and also by composer Lalo Schifrin, whose 'suspenseful' music cues become repetitive (you almost expect Norman Bates to come running in). Sandy Dennis and Anne Heywood do extremely well with difficult characterizations, but the notion that Heywood has to pleasure herself in private weakens the bond we sense between the women--this is truly the love which dare not speak its name!--and the final events feel tacked on, with the psychological contest between Jill and Paul leading to an unsatisfying climax. **1/2 from ****
