Robbe-Grillet's novels and films seem bent on demonstrating the boredom of alienated man by turning their backs on the reader and boring him into a stupor. The methods are similar, but there is a major, crucial difference. Handke's novels-he is perhaps better known here as a playwright-has been associated with France's nouveau roman and the work of Alain Robbe-Grillet. It's as exciting as any conventionally successful and high suspense film.Mr. He buys a newspaper and gets on a bus.Those sentences suggest the tempo of the film, but not its impact on the viewer who, by being required to fill in explanations the film makers resolutely refuse to give, becomes drawn into Josef Bloch's madness in a way that leaves one breathless and high. He picks up a girl and goes to her apartment at the edge of an airfield.

Josef Bloch wanders aimlessly around a Vienna that is both familiar to him and as strange as the inside of a beehive. However, 'The Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty Kick' is seething with feelings that are so ambiguous, so terrifying, that like Josef Bloch, the film can recognize them only obliquely, as if trying to put a good face on things by refusing to make a fuss.'The Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty Kick' is a carefully composed, unhysterical record of one man's coming-apart. today through Sunday, and at the same time next weekend, Thursday through Sunday.Like the Handke novel, the film will be described-incorrectly, I think-as dispassionate, which is not to see the film, or the book for its style, which is about as self-effacing as a style can be without disappearing entirely. Handke, was originally shown in New York at the Museum of Modern Art's 1972 New Directors/New Films series, but it is only now having its commercial premiere at the Film Forum, where it opened yesterday. For, as we learn in Wim Wenders's superlative screen version of Peter Handke's novel 'The Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty Kick,' Josef Bloch has been disconnected.This precise and beautiful German film, directed by Mr.

He displays no impatience with himself, no bitterness, no visible emotion whatsoever. He is a lean man, all tendons that have been tense so long that even the most ordinary gesture seems to be a kind of tic.Suddenly the game closes in on him and Josef Bloch, who has been waiting for this moment, fails to prevent the score. The frantic activity of the game at the other end of the field has no apparent relation to him. WHEN WE FIRST see Josef Bloch (Arthur Brauss), the goalie, he is isolated in a long shot at the far end of the soccer field.

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