ScreennThe Portrait of an Artist as a Kvetch and Other TrivianStardust Memories; Written andndirected by Woody Allen; UnitednArtists.nMy Bodyguard; Written by AlannOrmsby; Directed by Tony Bill;n20th-century Fox.nHopscotch; Written by Bryan Forbesnand Brian Garfield; Directed bynRonald Neame; Avco EmbassynPictures.nby Eric ShapearonWoody Allen has a sense of irony.nHe has neither a sense of compassionnnor a sense of sacrifice. This is why henis a comedian of the immaterial. Hisnprime source of humor is a pimple onnthe nose, or on the backside—the ultimatenin discomfort, his version of existentialnmisery. In good Brooklynese—nhis native tongue—he is a kvetch. NeithernChaplin nor Keaton—not evennLaurel and Hardy—were kvetches. Theynall measured their misfortunes againstnformidable odds and their defeats, althoughnfunny, were serious. The humannmishap can attain another dimensionnthrough laughter, but only laughternwhich contains the potential for heartwarmingnafterthoughts can producenfunniness. The comical must somehownbe a coefficient of deliverance.nMr. Allen may say that in StardustnMemories, rather than looking for fun,nhe is trying to probe the depth of hisnfrustrations, his plight as an artist whonwants to be serious and to say somethingnmomentous, but finds that no onenunderstands him. This is an agelessncomplaint of artists but, both as a realnperson and as the protagonist of hisnautobiographical movie, Mr. Allen isna king of life, a worshipped cineast, thenidol of the New York jet set and filmnindustry, the object of dreams of teen­n40inChronicles of Culturenage girls and middle-aged female predators.nWatching him, we wonder whatnthis little twerp, besieged by gorgeousnwomen and basking in all triumphs ofnexistence, has to gripe about. He triesnto tell us in his monologues, but, withnthe exception of a few one-liners, hisndialectic is boring. Thus, his plight isnboring and hardly worth preserving bynway of a movie.nTo expound the subtlety and nuancesnof the malaise that oppresses his soul,nMr. Allen uses the artistic methodologynof overlapping realities—that is a hodgepodgenof factual and semifactual statesnof being, a formal scheme that deliberatelynjumbles up fact and fiction andndoes not make any distinction betweennfantasy, dream, actuality. In StardustnMemories, Mr. Allen plays a film directornwho attends and discusses thenscreening of his latest movie in a placenwhich looks like Atlantic City, but wenknow nothing for certain about whatnis going on, where or why. This sort ofnavant-garde mishmash started in thentheater before World War I, has beennmodish in novels since the 20’s, andnattained its cinematic peak in the worksnof European movie directors in the 50’snand 60’s. Yet antirealism is still considerednthe latest thing, especially whennit is supposed to relate the confessionsn•» !. ^t’l Liberal CulturenERA — Where Are YounWhen We Need You?nIt has been reported on televisionnthat some of the femalenpassengers who were rescuednfrom the luxury liner Prinsen-nnnof an artist. In fact, employing this gimmicknis much easier than incorporatingnany rational order when conveyingnhuman dilemmas: to portray the dramanof moral and existential disorder Shakespeare,nIbsen, Griffith, John Ford, Fellinintrudged through the rigid necessitiesnand requirements of artistic order. Mr.nAllen is unconcerned about such obligations.nA bit of disarming charm here,na speck of witty remark there, sufficenfor a structural message.nThe name of Fellini is continuallynmentioned in the reviews of StardustnMemories, and with good reason. Thenmovie seems either a takeoff or a parodynon Fellini’s 8/4. This inclination to competenwith Fellini results in a sort ofnvisual Italianization of Stardust Memories’visaaXntexture: one cannot even bensure whether the picture takes place innAmerica. The music—and Mr. Allennhas impeccable taste in music—is nostalgicallynAmerican, and there arensuperb cuts from all periods of jazz. Yetneven the score seems affected by thisnEuro-American hybridity: The mainntheme, “Body and Soul,” is played bynDjango Reinhardt, the great Frenchnguitarist.nFellini is a master at imbuing the uglinessnand vicissitudes of his charactersnwith dignity, commiseration, warmth.ndam—which went up in flamesnoff the coast of Alaska in onenof the more spectacular sea disastersnof recent times—felt embitterednthat the order to abandonnship was accompanied bynthe order: “Women and childrennfirst!”nWe think they have a legitimatengrievance. If the ERAnshould ever pass, it will be easynto sue the skipper for sex discrimination.nDn