Introduction to the Enemy. For two weeks the Orson Welles is showing this film to benefit the Indochina Peace Campaign. Five people collaborated to make this--Jane Fonda, Tom Hayden, Christine Burrill, Bill Yahraus and Haskell Wexier, who did the actual filming. He's one of the best cinematographers in America now--he did Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, In the Hest of the Night, American Graffiti, and Medium Cool. Here he's filming North Vietnam and the liberated sections of South Vietnam--shots of Hanol, and the ruined Bach Mai Hospital, PRG soldiers, interviews with Le Duc Tho and others. All of this was done on very low budget, narrated by Fonda and Hayden. Whodunit Festival. At the Orson Welles until the end of March is a batch of mystery movies, some good, some not so good, ranging from The Third Man and Touch of Evil to weaker pictures like Preminger's Laura, Harper, Gumshoe and The Last of Shella. This week, though, looks terrific. Made by Carol Read in 1949, The Third Man is one of the most exciting movies ever made. Tonight is von Sternberg's 1936 version of Crime and Punishment with none other than Peter Lorre as Raskoinlloov, Tomorrow begins Billy Wilder's The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes and Orson Welles' The Stranger, with Edward G. Robinson as a Nazi war criminal hiding out in America.

Don't Leok New, Another infiller, by Nichoias Roeg who made Performance, and who makes this picture so taut with surface brilliance that it's one of the most stunning visual experiences around--reality has shifted quietly into upside down by the time you leave the theatre People argue a lot about whether there's anything beneath the glaze, but the story in amazing and the ending is right up there with Well Until Dark for hop-out-of your beat cardiac arrests.

Discrest Charm of the Bourgeoisie Bunuel throws out the narrative mode in this 1972 movie, and with it escapes the nice touches, the quick flourishes, that make most of his films great instead this series of disjointed skits, featuring middle class folk with fantasies about death and bombs and machine gun massacres, becomes an opportunity for critics to jump into the abstraction and emerge with their own fantastic. "Will there ever be a revolution?" one asked, "Or just another capitalistic realignment designated to keep the bourgeoisise in power--like the formation of the Common Market or the resurgence of Japan?" In fact, there's only enough background coherence in the movie to point out that this bourgeoisie (periodic cuts to the six characters strolling down a country road shows us how enduring they are) does mousy things with ferocious underbellies--there's a thin filmy gate between the dinner table and the battlefield. Which is fine and presented so pleasingly that the movie is worth it. But Bunuel is idiosyncratic as ever, and there are no Theones of history here. One misses his stories, his Tristanas, when life can float by all at once, the great old director filling in the details.