Full Frontal (R) ★½

Note to self: A movie with Julia Roberts will never--and I mean never--be an independent film, no matter how small the budget, how edgy the aesthetic or how inscrutable the script. Note to self, part two: The postmodern is well and truly dead.

Story

Full Frontal, touted as the ''unauthorized'' sequel to sex, lies, and videotape, takes place within a 24-hour period leading up to a grand climax at movie producer Gus' (David Duchovny) birthday party at a posh Beverly Hills hotel. In the movie Gus is producing, Rendezvous, Calvin (Blair Underwood) stars as Nicholas, a TV actor making a movie, and Francesca (Roberts) plays Catherine, a reporter with Los Angeles magazine. Enrico Colantoni (from TV's Just Shoot Me) plays Nicholas' agent in Rendezvous, but he's also putting on a play called The Sound and the Fuhrer, which stars as Hitler an unnamed actor played by Nicky Katt. That play was written by Los Angeles magazine reporter Carl Bright (David Hyde Pierce), who also wrote Rendezvous. Carl is married to Lee Bright (Catherine Keener), a wacked-out VP of Human Resources who's on a massive firing spree that involves throwing an inflatable globe at soon-to-be sacked employees and forcing them to name every country in Africa while standing on a chair. Oh yeah, and she's sleeping with Calvin. Weird enough for you yet? There's more. Lee's massage therapist sister Linda (Mary McCormack) visits a client at a posh Beverly Hills hotel, and he turns out to be Gus--the producer. Phew. It's amazing that with all these connections and near-collisions, none of the characters ever really connect with one another (which is kind of the point of the film) or with the audience (which was probably not the point). There's a distance between them that's almost insurmountable, and a deliberate distancing of them from the audience that's the result of the (dare I say overdone) device of the ''movie within a movie.'' But hey, this movie isn't about the story, anyway, or characters, either, for that matter. In fact, it's not a movie at all--and that picture's not a pipe. This film is director Steven Soderbergh's demo reel. Long live the postmodern.

Acting

It took a special kind of actor to be in this film because the script came with a set of rules and an admonition: ''If any of these guidelines are problematic for you, stop reading now and send this screenplay back where it came from.'' You can read the full rules here, but among the highlights are requirements that the chosen cast would do their own hair, makeup and wardrobe; that they would drive themselves to the set; and that there would be no ''craft service'' (that's catered chow). Despite these hardships, several cast members acquit themselves admirably in Full Frontal, especially Keener (Out of Sight, Being John Malkovich), whose long-under-appreciated talent is finally getting its just reward. Pierce (from TV's Frasier), who auditioned for sex, lies, and videotape but wasn't cast, is at first unremarkable as Carl, but eventually, he develops his character into the most human and certainly the most sympathetic figure in the film. Duchovny, who also auditioned and also wasn't cast in sex, lies, and videotape, finally gets to be the center of a Soderbergh flick, even though he has only two scenes--and one of them not particularly active, although it's certainly memorable. (No, that's not a pipe, either!) McCormack (Private Parts, K-PAX), Duchovny's partner in ''crime,'' displays an innocent intelligence that plays well against his world-weary cynicism. Roberts (Erin Brockovich, Ocean's Eleven) was perhaps the most creative with the hair and makeup experiments, going blonde as Francesca and wearing a wispy brunette wig as Catherine, both of which were wholly her idea. Katt (The Limey) evidences great ability for playing an utter git as a screwed-up actor playing a screwball Hitler; it's equally impressive that he manages to avoid the Producers trap he could so easily have fallen into in the role.

Direction

Soderbergh's highly developed aesthetic, which used only natural light while switching between 35mm film footage of the movie within the movie and grainy digital footage of the movie we're watching (that is, all the rest of Full Frontal), clearly harkens back to his indie roots; indeed, the director has said that if he were to make sex, lies, and videotape today, Full Frontal is ''very much the form it would take.'' No one can question the director's vision or work ethic: Throughout the course of this film, Soderbergh not only worked with first-time screenwriter Coleman Hough to develop the script, but interviewed the cast to flesh out characters (the audio from these interviews would eventually be used in the film--see the trailer for an example, and the ''rules''), shot much of the footage himself with a $4,600 DV camera any schmuck could buy--and operate--and of course directed--all on a shoestring budget. He's a studio's wet dream: big name, big stars, cheap production. No wonder Soderbergh's image is splashed all over the movie's official Web site (and not Roberts or Duchovny or even Keener); this movie is all about Soderbergh's vision. Unfortunately, it's about little else and has very little else about it. I almost fear the great visionary may be a little nearsighted. Soderbergh's Full Frontal is ultimately a series of pseudo-indie devices and scenes designed to do little more than showcase the director's not inconsiderable skill at his craft.

Bottom Line

Full Frontal mostly wastes a stellar cast on underdeveloped characters and a flimsy storyline, while providing a showcase for director Steven Soderbergh's unfortunately long-lost indie sensibilities.