A star vehicle in the tradition of those Susan Hayward biopics featuring major emotions and an unironed wardrobe. The question before the court is whether Claudia (Streisand) is nuts, and thus unfit to stand trial for manslaughter, or just bristlingly independent. A high-price hooker, she killed a client in self-defence, but her rich parents want her committed rather than risk a trial. She resists, snarling at shrink, counsel, and due process alike through matted hair. Lawyer Levinsky (Dreyfuss) is assigned the case, and grudgingly they work together towards getting Claudia her day in court, though she gets the big speech which wins the day. Why she is like she is gets explained, and it's plenty neat; Streisand's a star, which means your complicity is on call at all times. In the shade, Dreyfuss is terrific, banking down his natural cockiness. At the risk of sounding like the guy who went to Cleopatra to see the snake, Wallach, Whitmore, Webber, Malden and Stapleton lay on limousine service.