Nutty-Fruity

The Lovers of Teruel is two movies in four styles.

The movies:

> A ballet based on a Spanish legend.

> The story of three gypsies (Ludmilla Tcherina, Milenko Banovitch, Milko Sparemblek) who live the legend as they dance it.

The styles:

> The here-comes-the-circus style of commedia dell' arte--the joint is jumping with dwarfs and zanies, harlequins and saltimbancos.

>The weepy-creepy style of romantic tragedy--the sets are smeared with ghastly blues and bilious greens, the ear is assailed with suffering violins and preposterously exalted sentiments: "What good is my body if you cannot have my soul?"

>The juvenile-Dalinquent, symbol-banging style of surrealism--in almost every reel a riderless bicycle glides across the screen, or the villain saws his violin so furiously it bursts into flame.

> The we'll-try-anything-once style of the contemporary art film--the screen is lousy with montage, slow motion, stop motion, reversed negatives and flashbacks within flashbacks within flashbacks.

Add them all together they spell pother? Not at all. Director Raymond Rouleau, laboring like a Mixmaster, has produced a nutty-fruity confection of exquisitely deplorable taste. He is particularly fortunate in his heroine, Ballerina Tcherina. She doesn't really dance very well, but she sure does give the picture body.

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