A movie that so openly embraces the Tarantino influence invites comparison with its godfather, and in that respect Go comes up short, although it's fairly brisk and entertaining on its own. Writer John August and director Doug Liman invest no emotional significance in their characters or stories, utilizing them as props for the "creative" elements of moviemaking--tricks with time, deadpan laughs, drug-inspired visuals. That's fine as long as the sensation lasts. But as the credits roll, anyone who's ever seen what passes for film-school product these days will recognize the true genre of Go--it's an audition for a bigger budget.

When it becomes obvious that nothing really intriguing is going to happen onscreen during these indie-style ensemble pictures, one strategy is to study their young, hip casts and look for flashes of future potential. Sarah Polley, in the role of Ronna, a supermarket cashier playing drug dealer for one night, stands out in Go's first segment. Ronna is at ground zero in the Hollywood survival wars, gaunt, desperate, suspicious, and reckless. Polley plays her without histrionics, even when she's cornered in a police sting or trapped by the dealer she cheated.

Taye Diggs, the island hunk from How Stella Got Her Groove Back, shows cool courage under fire in the second story, which recounts an ill-fated guys' night out in Vegas. He's got it together at some self-assured level beyond the stereotypical suave-black-man role that has been written for him. And in the third act, which ventures into weird, Todd Solondz middle-class territory, Jay Mohr and Scott Wolf act up a storm with an endless repertoire of confused looks. Even when the drugs, depravity, and movie-ish coincidences weigh Go down, there's solace to be found in the big-screen talents of its cast, many of whom are TV-trained.

But for Doug Liman, who got this Columbia gig on the strength of his debut independent film Swingers, the message isn't so comforting. Go lacks the sweetness, the character-driven wit, and the warm human energy of Swingers, shooting instead for a generic brand of faux-verit toughness. This suggests that Liman doesn't bring much of a point of view to the screenplays he's handed, and that the writers of his films are largely responsible for the tone. So if you're looking for the next Swingers--and who isn't?--give Jon Favreau a call. Doug Liman is too busy courting the studio moneymen.