Screenwriter Bernard Slade, a comedy veteran known for mostly upbeat material, takes on Women's Liberation circa 1972--pig-headed men versus women who want to be taken seriously--but, amazingly, can't shake the overwhelming hopelessness out of the equation. The oppressed women who populate the film are seen fighting for feminist issues with conviction, though without many triumphs to show for their dedication. Jacqueline Bisset plays a fashion writer who gets an assignment to cover the Women's Lib movement in Denver; coincidentally, that's also where her widowed mother and enlightened sister live, and where a handsome airline pilot resides when he's not chasing a schedule. Bisset becomes intrigued by what she's seeing and hearing, but when she moves in with her pilot, she turns into a walking copy of Ladies Home Journal (he's supposed to do his share of the housework, but hires a maid instead). Slade really seems to believe in the speeches, and tries not to make the women sound platitudinous, yet some of his dialogue lands with a clatter (noticing a nun in full-dress at a feminism rally, Bisset tells her she didn't know that nuns were into the cause--the nun replies, "Have you ever heard of an altar girl?"). Presented in a cozily middle-class format (with a tone that could be labeled 'lightly dramatic'), the film is TV-styled in scope and filled with familiar faces from the tube. However, it touches on something provocative in the marriage between advertising man Steve Lawrence and housewife Loretta Swit; he's been let go and needs fast employment, she's been offered a job at a lucrative magazine. To the husband, the wife's surprising success isn't at all substantial, and not even worth considering. It's a joke to him that she become the breadwinner. Although dated, this portion of the movie manages to get at an interesting man-woman/husband-wife dynamic, and it isn't topped off with an easy solution. The rest of the picture, unfortunately, settles into a sitcom groove, with protest marches and a bra-burning. It may have reached a broader audience if only Slade had liberated himself from the topical clichés. **1/2 from ****