Because it is. Based on the novel "A Case of Need" by Jeffery Hudson, this film only took a few frames for me to opine that it seemed a lot like a Michael Crichton story. Of course Hudson is Crichton's pseudonym, and the film proceeds in the thriller/mystery mode of many of its author's more famous efforts.
Despite a lot of heavy themes and cliched or stereotypical intimidating "doctor-as-god" and above everyone else tropes, the plot turns on a much more banal matter. And of course, not only is Coburn above it all as a pathologist, he is apparently the only one seriously interested in investigating the death of a poor young woman and exonerating a wrongly accused colleague. He's awfully good at his sideline, too. There's a couple of too-convenient coincidences to stitch the story together, putting this squarely in the average mass of just OK mysteries. But if you're sentimental for a dose of late 1960s-early 1970s hip doctor worship (back when the doctor-image was of cutting at 11 am, teeing off at 1 pm, and partying all night with gorgeous hospital staff at jazz and booze-filled parties, and not being bogged down in insurance reimbursement forms as they complain of today), then this is a film to depart to that (real or imagined) nostalgia of 50 years ago.
James Coburn is his dependably irrepressible and ever-toothy, shaggy self. Watching Jennifer O'Neill made me ask, "whatever happened to her?" Skye Aubrey (Nurse Angela) seemed so familiar but I couldn't really place her in any other memorable roles-maybe soap opera or the Love Boat?
It might be interesting to compare this film to the "what if" version had Blake Edwards had full or at least more control over it. Apparently the shooting schedule was curtailed, and the film edited, against his wishes. Even so, I'm not sure that added runtime, for example, is indicated, because the film, which is really a pastiche of medico/detective/procedural vignettes tethered to the basic plot line, seems not to need any additional plot points to complete the story arc. And at its final 101 minutes, it doesn't detain to boredom.
Despite a lot of heavy themes and cliched or stereotypical intimidating "doctor-as-god" and above everyone else tropes, the plot turns on a much more banal matter. And of course, not only is Coburn above it all as a pathologist, he is apparently the only one seriously interested in investigating the death of a poor young woman and exonerating a wrongly accused colleague. He's awfully good at his sideline, too. There's a couple of too-convenient coincidences to stitch the story together, putting this squarely in the average mass of just OK mysteries. But if you're sentimental for a dose of late 1960s-early 1970s hip doctor worship (back when the doctor-image was of cutting at 11 am, teeing off at 1 pm, and partying all night with gorgeous hospital staff at jazz and booze-filled parties, and not being bogged down in insurance reimbursement forms as they complain of today), then this is a film to depart to that (real or imagined) nostalgia of 50 years ago.
James Coburn is his dependably irrepressible and ever-toothy, shaggy self. Watching Jennifer O'Neill made me ask, "whatever happened to her?" Skye Aubrey (Nurse Angela) seemed so familiar but I couldn't really place her in any other memorable roles-maybe soap opera or the Love Boat?
It might be interesting to compare this film to the "what if" version had Blake Edwards had full or at least more control over it. Apparently the shooting schedule was curtailed, and the film edited, against his wishes. Even so, I'm not sure that added runtime, for example, is indicated, because the film, which is really a pastiche of medico/detective/procedural vignettes tethered to the basic plot line, seems not to need any additional plot points to complete the story arc. And at its final 101 minutes, it doesn't detain to boredom.