We can wait to read the four-page review in some highbrow magazine describing this Jean-Luc Godard film as a masterpiece. Fragments from Shakespeare's Lear are spoken - when there is anything at all going on up there on the screen - by characters wandering around a continental coastal resort. They make marginally more sense than the rest of the film, which we think portrays a young director looking for ideas for filming King Lear. Burgess Meredith blasts cantankerously through as Godard's version of Lear; Molly Ringwald sleepwalks Cordelia; Woody Allen speaks earnestly at the end. The rest is a meaningless shambles of bits and pieces assembled in haphazard fashion, as if from the cutting-room floor. But then again this may be a masterpiece.

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