The New York art world as seen through the 'cold eye' of another of Mangolte's knowing heroines, a thoroughly modern Manhattan Maisie whose vision and experiences we're again invited to share. But the distance implied by the choice of this fictional protagonist, the strangeness of having her friends and acquaintances converse direct-to-camera, the opening titles ironically appraising each in turn, all promise a critical perspective that somehow isn't achieved. James Barth's flaccid script has a lot to answer for. One's heart sinks as the voice-over mournfully intones, 'Why am I so alienated?', and after a long ninety minutes of narrative devoted to assorted bores minutely scrutinising their own sensibilities, one feels that it wasn't nearly ironic enough, and wonders whether this is where so-called avant-garde cinema really ought to be.