Critics reviews

This story of a psychoanalyst (James Coburn) entrusted with presidential confidentiality was obviously chosen merely for the half-witticism of its title, which is semi-provocative only for those suffering Trump Derangement Syndrome.

Theodore J. Flicker's exercise in comic paranoia impressed me mightily [in 1968] (if less so thereafter); it remains a reasonably funny artifact from the age of grooviness, providing a candy-colored bridge between The Manchurian Candidate and the conspiratorial thrillers of the early Seventies.