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Perhaps it’s simplistic to say you shouldn’t make a movie with a subject you have no empathy for, but when all’s said and done, Auto Focus feels like it’s disinterred a corpse, only to drag him through the mud. Bob Crane, whose minor celebrity as the star of Hogan’s Heroes started him on a downward path of sex addiction that led to his ugly death in a Scottsdale, Ariz. motel room, may not have been anyone’s idea of a role model, but Paul Schrader, who wrote and directed, treats him like a hapless, conscienceless schmuck who more or less deserved what he got. Greg Kinnear does a commendable job of incarnating Crane’s aw-shucks exterior, but he can’t bring inner life to a character that was deliberately created without one. Schrader talks a good game about how Crane is a metaphor for the corrupting power of celebrity, but he was also a man, and deserves at least the slightest measure of respect, not to be treated as a vessel for Schrader’s more and more tiresome exploration of his own dead-end Catholic guilt. Empathy is the cornerstone of art, and Auto Focus has none. --Sam Adams (Ritz East; Ritz 16)

Christian Charles’ documentary purports to document Jerry Seinfeld’s return to standup, following his decision to walk away from the most popular sitcom in television history. Charles and producer Gary Streiner followed Seinfeld (also credited as a producer) around for more than a year, as well as another, supposedly up-and-coming comedian repped by Seinfeld’s agent George Shapiro, Orny Adams. That Adams comes off as unkind and self-involved, and Seinfeld as humble and hardworking hardly seems a coincidence, but maybe it’s just “real life.” Jerry’s efforts to develop a solid 50 minutes of material don’t seem so strenuous, but he does spend some time in front of the camera not speaking, pondering. He brings the (pregnant) wife and kid on the comeback tour, to clubs in New York, New Jersey, California and Ohio, ending with the big-deal, new-suited appearance on Letterman. He spends time in the clubs chatting comedic strategies with buddies Colin Quinn, Chris Rock, Ray Romano and Garry Shandling, and meets with role models Robert Klein and Bill Cosby (to whom he is especially deferential, as well he should be: the man does two sets of 2 hours and 20 minutes each, in his 60s). The movie doesn’t document Seinfeld’s return or even his ways of working, so much as it offers glimpses of same. Its 81 minutes of muddy-looking digital tape are culled from some 600 hours, and the sketchy shape seems a function of the necessary major lopping. --Cindy Fuchs (Ritz at the Bourse; Ritz 16)

Directed with speed but no energy, Ghost Ship efficiently cranks up the tension for a while, but the energy is released without event. It helps to know that director Steve Beck’s only previous credit is the William Castle remake Thir13en Ghosts, since this one’s similarly shameless about milking the shocks. Gabriel Byrne (who hasn’t been an even half-decent movie in how long?) plays the captain of a tugboat full of sea-beaten salvagers who happen upon a rusted ocean liner that’s been missing for 40 years. (No guessing how the passengers perished; that’s revealed in a too-clever-by-half opening sequence.) Wouldn’t you know it, the darn boat seems to have this nasty habit of killing people, and so it does in increasingly gruesome ways. Borrowing heavily from The Shining (the little girl ghost is a dead ringer for those creepy kids) and going so far as to rip off The Lost Boys, Ghost Ship is most notable for reuniting ER’s Carol (Julianna Margulies) and Shep (Ron Eldard). Really, there’s nothing else. -- S.A. (AMC Orleans; Roxy; UA 69th St.; UA Cheltenham; UA Grant; UA Riverview)

The third film from Damon Dash and Jay-Z’s Roc-A-Fella Productions (following the concert documentary Backstage and the gangsta tale State Property), Paid In Full is based on a true story. Wood Harris plays Ace, a dry cleaning shop employee who becomes an infamous dealer in ’80s Harlem; his boys include flashy Mitch (Mekhi Phifer) and mundane Calvin (Kevin Carroll). When he scores a connection with living-lovely Lulu (Esai Morales) and Mitch does a stint in prison, Ace moves on up, quickly. And yet, no matter how fine the new ride or heavy the drug traffic, this anti-Nino Brown stays cool (“Live and maintain”), advising his minions to do the same. Betrayal rears its ugly head in the form of Roc artist Cam’ron (making his film debut), jumpy, ambitious and too gaudy for Ace’s taste, especially when he and his girl (who happens to be Mitch’s sister) have a baby. It’s good to learn lessons, no matter how late and even if the costs, for others and yourself, are tremendous. But, for all the generous efforts by Harris, Phifer and Cam, as well as director Charles Stone III (who made the Budweiser “Whassup” ads and whose next film, Drumline, is already well-buzzed), the film is tired. --C.F. (UA 69th St.; UA Cheltenham; UA Riverview)

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January 9, 2003
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