"The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp" is about as confusing in its parody as "The Skin of Our Teeth." Few theatregoers agree on the Wilder hodge-podge and there will be disagreement over the British-made United Artists film as well. On a few points there will be general accord: "Colonel Blimp" is long, technicolored, staid, and generally entertaining.

The walrus-moustached, bloated Colonel Blimp of the David Low cartoon is associated with the Cliveden set of umbrella-toting appeasers, with the narrow selfishness that, along with other attributes, is labeled fascist. Cinema's Colonel Blimp is less bitterly presented, and while he is frequently laughed at he's not a bad sort at all.

What makes "Colonel Blimp" stretch to 146 minutes is its tremendous scope, its three generation historical footnote to the Law burlesque. Beginning called Clive Candy through out of the Bear War, the picture plumps down a punch bowl full of a atmosphere, all very English and very genteel. This was when wars were just "Summer maneuvers" so far as most people were concerned, and the British military set were having a dandy old time.

When Hollywood bites off a chunk like this and fills in with technicolor, things usually get very heady and cloying; the British (take another look at "On Approval") maintain a carefree buoyancy which aims at entertainment instead on Academy Awards.

Blimp's dueling and drinking and wild-game hunting, all in the best radiation of protocol, are brown up consistently enough into a balloon that pops with the realization that old-school formality must be chucked when the other team doesn't follow the same rules, but there is something devilishly out of place in the puzzle. jgt