Set in the romantic city of Rome. The intertwining stories of a worker who wakes up to find himself a celebrity, an architect who takes a trip back to the street he lived on as a student, a young couple on their honeymoon, and a frustrated opera director who has a talent for discovering talented singers.
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Is an abomination, travesty, an insult to the craft of filmmaking and a humiliating example of a auteur (Woody Allen) gone amuck. Out of respect for my, if at times limited, but still viable insights; I am composing this review in 15 minutes (which is approximately 14 more than it deserves.)
1) All the men in the film are clones of "Woody Allen" at some point in his life.
2) All the women represent the "forbidden fruit" he has either owned or held in a time/share.
3) The blatant metaphors for "fame", "misplaced adoration", "insignificance of the adored", "press power"; are bludgeoning at the Machiavellian, ad nauseam, level.
4) Puccini ("Tosca"), Leoncavallo ("Pagliacci"), Modugno ("Volare") are fortunately not alive to witness the desecration, "drowning" of their masterpieces.
5) Rome did not deserve this, nor did the audience!
ONE STAR! BECAUSE OF THE SOUND TRACK