Reviewed by David Levinson

THEY SAY THAT imitation is the lowest form of flattery. Apply that model to the Woody Allen-French axis and what you have is a relationship that's been thrown into reverse lopsidedness. Allen, it would seem (hardly [if any?] of his millenium work has actually received theatrical distribution here), is on the decline, taking graceless backward-leaps into the primordial ooze of his own desperate, narcissistic sense of criticism (self- and otherwise).