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Starkiller, the moody hero of The Force Unleashed video games, has become a key character in the Star Wars canon. But what's it like bringing him to virtual life? Sam Witwer discusses the challenges of working in interactive entertainment.

On the set of Star Wars, a long, long time ago, an exasperated Harrison Ford is alleged to have yelled, "you can type this shit, George, but you sure as hell can't say it". He was referring to the tortured sci-fi exactness of lines like, "It'll take a few moments to get the coordinates from the navi-computer," but it's the whole arcane language and terminology of the Star Wars universe that must befuddle some actors. Through all his years of repertory theatre, through the Ealing comedies and that magisterial work with David Lean, Alec Guiness would never have had to say anything like, "And these blast points, too accurate for Sandpeople.

Fish Eye Films

The promise of a stylish psychological thriller is squandered in "Camera Obscura", which lapses into an ordinary, wearying tale of a nice guy in over his head with ruthless criminals. The crooks happen to be cops in the intriguing setup, the protagonist a young crime scene photographer. Debuting helmer Hamlet Sarkissian, Leningrad- and AFI-trained, brings a fresh eye to downtown L.A. locations, infusing his story with a contemporary noirish sensibility, but his grasp of narrative and performance is less sure. This visually impressive low-budget indie, which opens Friday in Los Angeles, is not destined for sleeper success but will spark interest in Sarkissian's next project.

The film opens with photographer Jimmy (Adam Trese) and his ballerina wife, Maria (Spanish actress Ariadna Gil), thrilled that he has landed a job. But even before the next bloody, foreshadowing image, it's clear that no good will come of this. Their sprawling prewar flat is one of many shadowy settings Sarkissian and director of photography Haris Zambarloukos ably put to use as elements of foreboding.

In the story's sharpest flash of originality -- which goes nowhere -- Jimmy becomes obsessed with the gruesome murders he must document for the LAPD and starts rearranging corpses into artful tableaux. Far worse, he becomes involved with two detectives (Cully Fredricksen and V.J. Foster) who are on the make as part of a drug ring. Their evil would be more apparent only if they had horns and tails, so it's hard to feel sympathy for Jimmy when he goes along with their sordid schemes. But the line separating good people from seaminess is impossibly thin here. Maria, desperate to earn money so that Jimmy can quit the job, starts dancing in the strip club of a transvestite with his own venal secrets (Kirk Ward).

By the time it reaches its fatalistic finale, the story has lost momentum and credibility, and all the performances, from the over-the-top supports to the more realistic leads, have become sources of annoyance. It's a disappointment given the strong evocation of mood, enhanced by exceptionally fine use of music that includes Tigran Mansurian's original compositions. Theater troupe Culture Clash appears as a trio of street clowns.