What's Up Tiger Lily? Woody Allen's first movie. He takes a B-rated Japanese Bond imitation and dubs it with a sorely dated funniness. Central Cinema 8.

The Harder They Come. Starring Jimmy Cliff. The movie is already something of a cult phenomenon. And why shouldn't it be? It's got everything: Set in a Jamaican ghetto under sunny blue skies, the movie looks like a rough etching for a travelogue; a reggae singer on the up and up is bullied and spat down by the local fat king of the record business; he falls for a young sweet 'n innocent ward of the neighborhood preacher, and then shows up all preacher's God-stricken ranting and moaning and raving and groaning as simple lechery; his ambition as a rock star thwarted, he joins the genga trade--shots of blitz-eyed traders; wearing sunglasses and a leopard skin vest he twirls two pistols in parody--the old Hollywood style Western hero has become the outcast; on the run, a wanted man, his record becomes a super hit; a doomed man, he reaps a martyr's glory--at this point the movie gets boring--he makes fools out of the cops a bit longer and then gets shot up on the beach. Orson Welles. 4, 6, 8, 10.

Cries and Whispers. Bergman's latest, filmed with a crimson colored Gothic expressionism reminiscent of Edvard Munch. Set in a turn of the century manor house, two sisters (Liv Ullmann and Ingrid Thulin) along with a peasant servant (Kari Sylwun) attend their dying sister (Harriet Andersson). Bergman uses the women schematically--the Woman as Other--to play out his 'nothingness' theme: the ultimate isolation of every human being, the tissue of lies that passes for communication between men, the meaningless of extra-human faith, the nothingness at the heart of it. Harvard Square 3:10, 6:30, 9:50.

Belle du Jour. directed by Luis Bunuel with Catherine Deneuve. An uptight bourgeois Parisian housewife acts out her prostitution fantasies. Bunuel jumbles the real and the fake, the conscious and unconscious, the storybook and dream in a powerful satire-study of psychological repression and the perversions it breeds. Harvard Square 1:30, 4:50, 8:10.

Last Picture Show. A masterpiece about life in a small Texas town in the 50s. Without overstatement, and with great attention to detail, the film sympathetically unmasks the quiet desperation that underlies its characters' existence. The acting is perfect, and the movie is wisely shot in black and white. Cybil Shepard's role as the spoiled daughter of an oil tycoon is the performance that started her movie career. Cinema 733.

Jesus Christ Superstar. A hackneyed film, based on the Broadway musical that tagged along with the Jesus revival. Director Norman Jewison sets to film the rock cantatas of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice. Beacon Hill Theatre.

The Mackintosh Man. John Huston's newest film. A convoluted and badly constructed plot moves British intelligence to send agent Paul Newman to jail, in order to infiltrate a ring which arranges prison breaks. Fine acting by James Mason, and beautiful Dominique Sanda, whose French accent sometimes gets in the way of her lines, cannot save this film. At the Pi Alley.

Millhouse: A White Comedy. A brace of embarrassing Richard Nixon film clips, put together by Emile de Antonio, the man who did Point of Order, the fine documentary film of the McCarthy hearings. Although the Nixon appearances are amusing and sometimes hilarious, de Antonio fails to find a toehold on the personality of this slipperiest of politicians. The film becomes nothing more than a disconnected sequence of Nixon statements, and some of Antonio's forays--like cutting from a determined Nixon campaign speech directly to Pat O'Brien's famous "win one for the Gipper" speech in the Notre Dame locker room, simply fall flat. Antonio has all the material to finish off Nixon, but he is unable to put it together. See the film if you're prepared to edit it in your head, or if you have a sudden urge to see the Checkers speech. At the Video Theatre. The Graduate. Mike Nichols directs with Dustin Hoffman. Hopefully this movie will hit you differently your nth time around. Because there is something rotten about it. Purportedly, it describes a late 60s generation gap. But in doing so, it unwittingly calls attention to the gap between the 60s and the 50s from which the vision of the movie is more credibly derived. Benjamin Braddock's is, after all, for someone fresh from the nerve center of an Eastern college, an awfully confused alienation. His father asks, "Well, what do you want?" and a mumbling "I don't know" is the most he manages. This in '67 when anti-war protest was at its heyday! The Beats who issued position papers in the 50s had a much clearer idea of what they were rejecting. Moreover, the movie obfuscates the fundamental question it asks--what is Benjamin Braddock to do with his life?--with a fairy tale convention--love tried, tested and won, to be carried off in an orange bus. And so it obscures a radical secret of the 60s: that youth was beset by a desperate anti-mainstream anxiety. This is a movie, finally, that lowers rather than raises consciousness. The Plaza Theatre.

Blume in Love. By Paul Mazursky, who did Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice, which was a better movie. This sometimes incisive work is a tale of undying love that sends George Segal from Los Angeles to Venice in search of his divorced wife, beautiful Susan Anspach. It won't take you quite as far. Cheri 2. 1:30, 3:35, 5:45, 8, 10:05.