Director Steven Soderbergh created quite a splash in 1989 when his Sex, Lies and Videotape hit the big screens and heralded a new age of independent filmmaking. Videotape helped firmly plant modern independents as a true force in Hollywood. Working with a very modest budget, ($1.2 million and grossing over $25 million) the film, about repressed sexuality and ’90s attitudes towards love, manages to straddle the ever-elusive line between financial success and artistic integrity.

Since then, Soderbergh has continuously shifted directions as he carves a path of eclectic films onto his résumé. From 1991’s ambitious odd-ball Kafka to the 1993 coming-of-age drama King of the Hill, and more recently with the wonderful 1998 feature Out of Sight and this year’s Erin Brockovich, Soderbergh has never duplicated his other works or been pigeon-holed into a specific genre. One wonders what he’s going to do with the remake of Oceans 11 that he is slated to direct.

Last year he directed the cold and sharp film The Limey. Hot off the critical success of Out of Sight, Soderbergh could have done pretty much what he wanted to do with whatever young, hip cast he chose. Instead, he took the road less traveled and cast British great Terence Stamp (Superman 1 and 2, The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, Bowfinger, Billy Budd), whose career has spanned nearly forty years here and in England. As the titular character, Stamp plays Wilson, a man on a mission. His daughter has been living in L.A. for quite some time and Wilson gets word that she is dead. Now he wants answers and he’s pissed.

Stamp plays Wilson with a perfect sense of purpose and detachment that is essential to the character (who has just recently been released from prison where he’s spent much of his life). Wilson enlists the help of his daughter’s friends Ed (Luis Guzmán - Out of Sight, Boogie Nights, Ghost) and Elaine, (Lesley Ann Warren – Clue, Pure Country — who is entering her ‘independent film’ phase after last year’s Twin Falls Idaho turn) to help him figure out what happened to his daughter. "Do you understand half the shit he says?" asks Ed. "No, but I know what he means." replies Elaine. This is true for some of the audience as well who might not be able to crack Stamp’s thick cockney-brogue accent, but just one look at his menacing gaze tells you exactly where he is going.

The other nice throwback casting choice that Soderbergh made was to hire Peter Fonda to play Valentine the rich music producer who may or may not be involved with the death of the girl. Fonda fits right into the character of a man who would rather throw parties and have sex than deal with the seedier side of his life (which he leaves to his right hand man Avery, well played by fine character Barry Newman, Bowfinger, and as Anthony J. Petrocelli in the 1970s TV show Petrocelli). Stamp and Fonda, two iconic film faces from the 60s, add more to their characters in Limey simply with all of the experience they have had and it shows on their faces and graces their powerful performances.

Soderbergh gets rich and energetic performances from the two leads and helps remind people that you don’t have to cast the youngest and ‘hottest’ new talent to make a movie work as well as this one does. One technique that he uses that has often been written about is the use of film footage from Poor Cow, a 1967 British film by Ken Loach that starred Stamp. This footage comes and goes within the movie to represent Wilson and his wife in their younger days. It is a great juxtaposition to his latter years with his steely-blue eyes and his shock of platinum hair. Stamp evinces a truly menacing presence on film and the stark and dead scenery (wonderfully captured by cinematographer Ed Lachman), creates a bleak and sterile looking Los Angeles.

Soderbergh will hopefully continue to be the maverick filmmaker that he has proven himself to be, resisting the temptation of falling into the rut that many others have fallen into, making the same movie over and over. The film world needs the energetic and fresh style that he brings to the cinema and so far, it looks as if he isn’t going to lose his winning streak. Good.

Tim Robbins has proven to be as strong a director as he is an actor. Witness his helming turns with Bob Roberts and Dead Man Walking. Unfortunately, he’s struck out with his third effort directing his pet project. While it includes a wonderful cast (John Turturro, Susan Sarandon, Hank Azaria, John Cusack, Joan Cusack, Bill Murray, Ruben Blades, and Vanessa Redgrave), it suffers from its good intentions and becomes a worn-out vanity project that has odoriferous emanations that resemble Limburger cheese. Focusing on the 1930s theatrical world, the film involves a production of a musical that gets halted by fears of Communist overtones. The government had set up a national theatre project that helped finance plays at low-cost ticket prices to entertain the masses and get their minds off the Depression. This was fine until some people began to fear that certain works like Cradle would poison the populi and was really all a ploy by red-loving commie bastards. This sets up rallies, senatorial debates, fights, and whatever other heavy messages Robbins could inject in the film. Maybe I’m an idiot and I’m simply missing the deliciously subversive subtext of this ensemble piece, but, well, it just plain sucks. The problem is that as a comedy, it isn’t funny and is too long. As a drama, it is too preachy. As a character piece, it is hard to care much about these people (save for a couple, especially Redgrave whose zest in her role is a treat). And as a whole, it is a mismatched and poorly judged effort that through all of its good intentions, simply collapses and should be booed off the stage.