It's natural, then, that's she'd fall for John Smith, a man whose entire erotic charm lies on his words — all she needs is someone to talk to her. Smith, meanwhile, uses the phone as a substitute for physical sex; when Alice asks him if he's had any physical relations with women, he responds angrily that he's had hundreds of women. It's all been via phone, of course, but to him that's as real as anything. He also admits that he doesn't do well with people when he has to speak to them eye to eye, which explains why he shows up at Alice's apartment wearing a pig mask. (Great Moments in Dialogue: Alice: "Why don't you just wear dark sunglasses?" Smith: "I'm theatrical.") The film views sex as an essentially narcissistic activity, which lends a harder edge to much of the satirical material. Quite a thing to bring up so soon after the free-love movement, but that's how it goes.

So yeah, The Telephone Book is pretty great. It's funny and freewheeling and, despite the serious thematic material I've brought up, it's never self-serious or pretentious. Movies like this are what makes this hobby so enticing — it's like having a secret movie all to yourself that you can't wait to share with the world. It's a rarity worth finding.