HOW NICE

By RICHARD CORLISS

This has to be considered a love story: Howard Stern says, "I love you, Alison" even more often than "penis." The mostly genial Private Parts, written by Len Blum and Michael Kalesniko and directed, with more style and verve than absolutely necessary, by Betty Thomas, is like Stern's radio show: self-obsessed, paranoiac, very funny and way too long.

It is best in its first half, when Stern, looking like a taller Weird Al Yankovic with his geeky posture, vulture profile and Isro hairdo, plays the familiar failure--a disappointment to his parents and bosses. Only his wife Alison (Mary McCormack from TV's Murder One) sees that this guy has star potential if he'd just be his horny self on the air. Howard gets to rant, vomit, expose his cellulite buttocks, flaunt the cinema's all-time-funniest erection and defame Don Imus and the WNBC brass. It's get-even time for the guy they called Howeird.

Now he also wants to be How Nice. Stern hopes to be "understood"--as a caring husband, a faithful friend, a mensch for all seasons. Don Rickles did this for decades, of course, insulting his listeners before sucking up to them (I hate you! Love me!). Stern just does it on radio. Maybe he really cares for his audience as much as he does for his wife. In the movie he expresses that love by making radio jokes about her miscarriage and telling a woman who's about to strip in his studio that Alison died of cancer. Yeah, Howard. Love you too.

--By Richard Corliss