New Hollywood approaching the off-ramp. TV movie expediency shot through with the exposition hum of those most 1970s techniques of overlapped dialogue and documentary montage. The birth of the even newer Hollywood musical score moved things on by looking over its shoulder to Stravinsky.

The second-half, although better remembered, is the relative weaker for its Hemingway salty sea doggery and wrong footing of Aaron Copland once Igor was finished with. 

Still, one can slip back into ‘70s films with the greatest of ease where even high concepts were human in scale.