BY MARGARET A. McGURK
The Cincinnati Enquirer

Howard Stern's show is a prime example of that bizarre modern phenomenon -- popular entertainment that congratulates the audience for being stupid.

It's beyond explanation, this fascination with humor (and some of it is truly funny) pitched at the level of 14-year-old boys huddled behind the garage with a girly magazine.

Still, there it is, in movies like Dumb and Dumber, TV shows like Beavis and Butt-headand Mr. Stern's syndicated radio show.

A curiosity who wants to be an icon, Mr. Stern on radio combines raging egomania with personal attacks, sniggling sex chat and the occasional saving dollop of self-deprecating humor. He is often downright repellent, but excuses himself by insisting ''it's all an act.''

You can take that statement at face value, particularly in this ''true story.''

For the big screen, the formula has been revised to emphasize the image of a devoted family man over the rock 'n' roll shock-jock. Sexual references abound, as do silicone-chested nudes.

But the script relies heavily on jokes aimed at the star, which serve to ease the agony of listening to him try to make a comedy bit out of his wife's miscarriage. The scene where his wife (Mary McCormack) tears into him for that stunt is the only one in the movie that feels, briefly, as if it actually could have happened in real life.

The rest is pure calculation, a comic-book version of an autobiography designed as a joke-delivery system.

But the jokes aren't too bad, for what they are, and Mr. Stern conveys good comic energy on screen. But the humor is oddly ephemeral. You may laugh, but a half hour later, you can't remember why.

I suspect that's because it makes no attempt to be memorable. Private Parts is a limited-ambition comedy, one that scores some funny moments mainly because it sets its targets so low.