Waiting for Guffman did it well, and Bowfinger--you may agree, depending on your mainstream/art-house sympathies--did not. So what does it take nowadays to pull off yet another meta-textual story about a failed filmmaker (complete with the preemptive line that "those who cannot do, review")? That still remains to be seen.

The Independent is the sophomore full-length effort of director Stephen Kessler, whose work last graced the big screen in the awkward form of 1997's Vegas Vacation. After that stinker, Kessler reunited with business-school buddy Mike Wilkins, with whom he had created an Academy Award-nominated short years before, to try again with a tragicomic mockumentary on fictional director Morty Fineman.

The resulting film provides low-level amusement for its full 85 minutes, but is surprisingly more enjoyable in hindsight than in "Hypnovision" (one of The Independent's many movie-geek jokes). Jerry Stiller is the good-hearted but bullheaded protagonist, whose daughter Paloma, brilliantly played by Janeane Garofalo, is dragged back into her father's production-company-of-ill-repute when his debts reach an impossible high. Max Perlich shines as the hapless Ivan, Fineman's longtime assistant and repository of life lessons on topics such as loyalty ("Milk the cow until it's dry, then make hamburger and wallets") and integrity ("Spend money on a glass eye, not because you are blind, but because others can see"). Numerous cameo players--including Ron Howard, Andy Dick, Ben Stiller, and John Lydon--also deliver delightful performances.

But while it was likely a liberating exercise for its creators and cast, The Independent comes off as lazy in its disregard for laypeople, and plays almost more as tragedy than comedy as opportunities for genuine laughs are neglected in favor of smug Hollywood in-jokes. Ultimately, even phony footage from the Fineman's B-movie oeuvre (featuring such titles as Herm-Aphrodite: God and Goddess of Love and Heil, Titler!) can't add enough sparkle to this oddly lackluster film.