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.