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 ****