Stardust Memories is Allen doing Fellini doing Sturges doing Allen, only with more neurosis and fewer Italians. It’s a film about a director who wants to be serious but keeps getting ambushed by beautiful women, flashbacks, aliens, and his own fans, who all wish he’d just shut up and be funny again. Yes, it’s self-indulgent. Yes, it wallows in angst. But it’s in black and white, so it must be art. And honestly, it’s funnier than it has any right to be.
Following critical acclaim for Manhattan, Woody Allen experienced a backlash with his next release. The director was accused of narcissism and arrogance and patronising his audience. He responded that his character (an actor/writer/director) wasn't modelled on himself. Which feels disingenuous.
This is pure arthouse which employs dreams, visions, fantasies and flashback. Critics pointed out how much it borrows from Federico Fellini's 8 1/2. But it owes as much to Preston Sturges' Sullivan's Travels. Woody goes to a festival of his films and is exposed to a surreal exaggeration of the celebrity experience of superfans, critics, groupies and rivals.
The perspective continually jumps from being about a director's personal crisis, to the surreal films the character makes, in a really satisfying, and clever way. It's an experimental film although perhaps not as much as when Fellini first made it. It's too abstract to be a crowd pleaser. But it's more entertaining than most head-movies
It reflects on the value of being a maker of comedies within a variety of contexts. It's not as funny as the early spoofs, or as good a drama as Manhattan. But there are still some extraordinary moments: like the aliens who travel across space to tell Allen they prefer his early funny films; and a heartbreaking meeting with Charlotte Rampling in a psychiatric hospital.