Nanni Moretti's tour-de-farce combines the essay film with forays into imaginative fiction that don't announce themselves, so we are in that pleasureland of dis/belief that only the freshest cinema can provide. Moretti takes us into his world and mind, delving into Roman architecture with its contradictions and its deep feeling for color; the bizarre island behavior of sixties radicals in retreat, including the mayor of neorealism's beloved Stromboli who thinks neothemepark; and illness, Moretti versus the medici who can't see the disease-cancer-for a forest of pills and ointments. And anyone who has experienced the pleasures of Eurocrit will appreciate Moretti's sidebar on film criticism. Moretti is a poor man's Woody Allen or a rich man's Ross McElwee, but his brand of self-absorption is strikingly devoid of either egocentrism or indulgence, just a very personal intelligence and a witty heart. Winner, Best Director, Cannes '94.