A self-indulgent yet enjoyable fantasy by Woody Allen, where he models his style after Fellini's "8 1/2". Allen plays a world famous film star/director not unlike his real self, who's now approached a mid-life crisis and has tired of making "funny movies". Though he's become embittered, he reluctantly agrees to be the guest of honor at a weekend celebration where the best of his films are going to be shown. While there he has to contend with sycophants, obnoxious autograph seekers, childhood flashbacks and different women on a surreal journey to self-realization. Woody received some hard knocks from fans and critics for making this type of highly personal movie, but I think it's very stylish and dream-like. Photographed in glorious black and white. *** out of ****

Without a leading lady to write for, Woody Allen concocts a showcase just for himself; the results are intentionally grotesque, certainly watchable but also a little bit uncomfortable. Allen has said in interviews that his role as a filmmaker attending a festival of his own movies is really nothing at all like him, and his treatment of the googly-eyed fans are not how he views his admirers in real life. After seeing the picture, that's a difficult assessment to swallow. It's a very pointed and satirical put-down of celebrity, and if you're the least bit touchy you may find "Stardust"--at the very worst--condescending. I didn't buy chilly Charlotte Rampling as a love-interest for Allen, but I did find the tacky, classless masses a neurotic hoot, and the film is amazingly photographed. It's too brash and ugly to be a truly comic experience--but as a transition picture from a commercial artist, not bad. **1/2 from ****

To describe only one scene, the voiced-over flashback of the Dorrie character (Rampling) reading the newspaper while listening to Louis Armstrong on a calm Sunday morning is possibly the best that this minimalistic style of shot will ever get. Allen used a single, close minute-long shot of the partner looking back at him to illustrate the sweet spot of a relationship, in which a pair is seeing in each other mainly things that they like. That's the point for which the serious are always angling, and the point the romantically frivolous can never reach. Which one Allen is - that's left up to the viewer. Possibly he considers himself less than romantically serious, but fantastically lucky to have gotten to this moment.