A good year for women on film, as exemplified in new releases The Eyes of My Mother, Miss Sloane, and more
Matthew Lickona 5 p.m., Dec. 9
Clint Eastwood and his favorite director, Don Siegel, took over this project from Frank Sinatra and Irvin Kershner, and the result is yet another halfway sharp, halfway shoddy Siegel cop movie, with vast stretches of barely motivated and barely connected dashing around, punching and gouging, shooting and dying. The grudge relationship between a lone-wolf cop and a psychopathic killer is developed mainly as a series of stunts and exercises for the athletic star; and only occasionally does Siegel pause long enough to make something solid out of his innumerable locations. Best shots: some broad, bird's-eye views of San Francisco rooftops, streets, football stadium, and some microscopic, worm's-eye views of the towering concrete cross in a public park. 1971.