Auto Focus takes one of Hollywood’s juiciest true stories and renders it to the big screen with a result that can best be described as, well…dull. The film seems to strive to be a dark comedy, yet it never is quite dark enough, and is rarely very funny. As a writer or director, Paul Schrader has brought us some of the cinema’s most conflicted and absorbing leading males in films like Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and Affliction. The Bob Crane story should have provided another perfect subject, beloved TV stars by day, depraved superfreak by night. But Auto Focus treats the murder of Bob Crane as a mere afterthought and never quite does enough to get the audience emotionally involved.

It’s not the fault of the lead. Greg Kinear is excellent as Crane, and his portrayal of the initially witty, straight laced Bob Crane carries the first half of the movie. As in Nurse Betty, the former TV personality is at his best playing a small screen star for the big screen. However, the lack of chemistry between him and Rita Wilson, who plays Crane’s first wife, Anne, detracts from the film's strong beginning. Schrader accurately and interestingly explores Crane’s leap into tv stardom as the lead in the 1960’s sitcom Hogan’s Heroes. Kinear shows a sincere sense of awkwardness as he witnesses the sexual openness of his more worldly cast mates, and its not until Crane meets John Carpenter that the family man begins to indulge his sexual fantasies.

Wilhelm Defoe is also nearly perfect as John Carpenter, Crane’s personal audiovisual expert, pornographer and general partner in slime. Defoe manages to be alternately creepy, sycophantic, and menacing and drips with seventies machismo. It would have been easy for his performance to overwhelm the lower-wattage Kinnear, but amazingly he is able to keep Crane the star of the picture.

Just as the Crane-Carpenter tandem really begins to hit stride as they personify the sexual liberation era, the film loses its way. In a story of sex, fame, videography and murder, the filmmakers can’t seem to get beyond the sex. Although the characters talk about Crane’s family and professional life falling apart due to his obsessions, we don’t get to see the conflict played out on screen. The one scene where Crane’s extracurricular activities are actually shown to undermine his career, in a disastrous appearance on a celebrity cooking show, is by far the best in the film.

The numerous subplots leading up to the actor’s death are never developed. Though Auto Focus is based upon the book, The Murder of Bob Crane, by Robert Graysmith, the film fails to retain many important aspects of story. In reality, Crane remained very close to his eldest son after leaving his married life behind. By completely denying this bond, the film washes away the complexity of Crane. Crane’s second wife Patti (Maria Bello) was jealous enough to have been considered a suspect in the murder; in the film she is reduced to little more than a nag. Lastly, while bedding women from coast to coast, Crane may have left angry boyfriends, husbands or fathers in his wake. Schrader does not realize all these subplots need to be woven into the film to keep it interesting because if Crane hadn’t been murdered, and his assailant at large, nobody would have known or cared who he slept with.

Without the storyline or character development building to a climax, Schrader only uses visual cues to convey the decline of Crane’s character. The beginning of the film is crisp and bright, and as Crane delves deeper and deeper into his sexual obsession the lighting gets moodier, and the film gets grainier. Eventually a hand held camera represents the chaos that is missing from actual the scenes. The character generated sets for the cramped, dingy strip clubs set the tone for the decadence second half of the movie. (More inside facts are available on the movie’s website www.sonyclassics.com/autofocus.) Crane’s tinted glasses and five o’clock shadow also signify his downfall, however, they appear too late in his decline.

Auto Focus had great potential with its cast, director, and infamous true crime story. Unfortunately, during the second half, the film loses its grip on the audience. Perhaps, if the MPAA had not become so lenient with the "R" rating, the director and writers would have been forced to pay attention to the more intriguing parts of the story.

Maryanne Ciaccia, 2002