GRADE: B

Angst that aims for comedy lies at the heart of “Cold Souls,” writer-director Sophie Barthes’ respectable debut effort, one that borrows liberally from ideas and cinematic concepts explored more fully and effectively in “Being John Malkovich,” “Adaptation” and “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.”

All three films exhibit a laidback approach to narrative intent; each dealing with a different aspect of what makes a person who they are. In “Being John Malkovich,” the opportunity to explore (and exploit) the inner mind is at issue; in “Adaptation,” the bi-polar nature of consciousness is explored in a twisted tale about twin brothers, whose identical looks belie totally different personalities, and two other characters who have each undergone a complete personality change.

In “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” the surface is more oblique, but its contention that our memories are a big part of what makes us who we are is doggedly concrete, an assertion constituting an intrinsic connection between our memories and our souls—a concept it captures quite brilliantly.

That brings me to “Cold Souls,” the story of a real life actor named Paul Giamatti, played by (of course) Paul Giamatti, whose recent bout of personal angst and professional frustration with an upcoming role in an Anton Chekhov play has him crazier and more depressed than usual.

When his agent suggests he investigate a new procedure for lifting the weight of life’s burdens by temporarily removing the soul, the actor scoffs. But it isn’t long before he visits the clinic and its peculiar chief physician, Dr. Flintstein, who attempts to convince the actor to undergo the procedure in what is one of the film’s best scenes, a tasty conversation full of wisdom, wisecracks and wit.

Assured his soul can be reinserted at any time, Giamatti agrees to give it a try with the expectation it will provide him a more fruitful and fulfilling life. Of course, it doesn’t take a film critic to figure out that life without a soul also has its disadvantages, including, in Giamatti’s case, the loss of empathy, the ability to act and urge to make love. It’s a simple case of be careful what you wish for.

The final twist comes in a series of plot contrivances that lead to the actor wanting his soul back, but it being unavailable for reinsertion (why is part of the fun). That forces Giamatti to have someone else’s soul inserted, and to become involved with dangerous Russian businessmen, black marketers trafficking in human souls and a well-meaning young woman who works as a “mule” for the Russians, ferrying souls across the Atlantic.

Although Barthes’ screenplay raises plenty of lofty questions, her answers are often contradictory, which means the young filmmaker is either unsure of what those answers should be or trying to have it both ways. That takes some of the edge off her attempt at profundity, causing this dreamy, often curious entry to become less a conundrum or puzzle than a statement of facts to be considered. But there’s still enough heady content, luminous cinematography and solid vignettes—many of a kind that are funnier upon reflection than when first seen or heard—to make “Cold Souls” a worthwhile experience.

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