'true Rights'

Good idea, wrong approach.

America's fascination with shock television and reality programming is ripe for satire -- the darker the better. But "True Rights," an undisciplined, frenetic mockumentary, manages to be all over the place without zeroing in on characters or a story that will intrigue an audience.

Writer-director Meg Thayer mistakes frantic activity for action and shouting for drama. But the movie spins its wheels without achieving momentum. Consequently, "True Rights," which played at the Dances With Films festival in Los Angeles, is an unlikely candidate for theatrical distribution, though cable TV is a possibility.

Like "The Blair Witch Project," the entire movie is shot by its protagonists, a guerrilla video crew. (One wonders how many copycat versions of that film we'll have to suffer through before filmmakers run the gimmick into the ground.) This group rushes around Los Angeles searching for accidents and tragedies to turn into moneymaking programming. Their key objective is to secure story rights from victims and perpetrators, and they do not have the slightest concern for anyone's sensibilities. They figure -- often correctly -- that money will cause the greedy to look at the bright side of any calamity.

Elaine Kilgore (Claudia Christian), who funds their pathetic adventures, would rather bellow than talk. Drew Stein (Tom Heard), a pill-popping failed actor, fights with her about everything except the basic immorality of their task.

It is left to their most recent hire, Reynolds Portman (Richard Lee Jackson), a film student who needs a gig, to act as the group's conscience. Well, sort of. He is vaguely disturbed by their exploitation of people's troubles, but he's never bothered enough to quit.

The film's crux, not swiftly established, centers on a washed-up actor from the silent era, Thad Whitney (Jack Betts), who may or may not allow the crew to film his suicide attempt.

There is a thin line between satire and ridicule, and this movie crosses it. Thayer characterizes these video vultures with scorn, never allowing them to redeem themselves.

Betts gives the film its only calm, nuanced performance. The rest is cluttered with transvestites, a sleazy agent, an arrogant producer, a maniacal serial killer and a host of other "types" that litter Hollywood satires like unwanted relatives at a wedding. Suffice it to say, none of them adds humor to this grindingly awful, misconceived movie.

Technically, the film is subpar, featuring shaky handheld camerawork, indifferent lighting and songs blasting off the soundtrack irrespective of activities on screen.