Eddie is a successful man who has everything he could possibly want, a beautiful wife, Florence, a nice house and a good job, but he remains unhappy. While convalescing from a car crash he reevaluates it all and runs into the arms of a former lover Gwen.
This has a startlingly brilliant opening, as Kirk Douglas is driven so mad by chattering radio voices he joyously attempts automotive suicide during his regular commute to work. Then it degenerates into almost a caricature of a "serious" story, with Douglas an ad exec undergoing a tormented mid-life crisis. He flees from his materialist lifestyle into a rebellious self-indulgence represented by some embarrassing nude grappling with a young Faye Dunaway on the beach. Kerr, as the long-suffering wife, is an especial victim of Kazan's thumpingly obvious script but everyone in sight is a caricature — even Douglas delivers one of his rare terrible performances.
There are sparks of the right stuff, but mainly it just witters on endlessly, probing the mental anguish of a rather uninteresting rich bastard.