The appeal of Mike Figgis' (Leaving Las Vegas) new movie Time Code is not that it's a beacon to the future of cinema. While it was made with some interesting gizmos, it's impossible to tell what will appeal to audiences a few years from now. Still, the computerized tools employed in Time Code are put to novel use: The screen is split four ways, and each of these segments contains an uninterrupted take shot with a handheld camera. The segments contain distinct but related footage that Figgis eventually ties together.

 It seems fitting that Figgis uses this elaborate technique to tell a story related to filmmaking. The improvised film, based on Figgis' premise, follows the fortunes of the struggling Red Mullet production company. Red Mullet's output could politely be described as tawdry sleaze. Even the company's security guard, Randy (director John Huston's son, Danny, in an amusing turn), is unsavory because he gets stoned on duty. Much of the humor in Time Code comes from the title of the company's latest opus, Bitch from Louisiana, and how the suits at the company (who include Holly Hunter and Steven Weber) react to it.

The studio's new project would seem a cut-and-dried proposition, but there are snags at every turn. The director, Lester Moore, (Richard Edson, Do the Right Thing) hasn't finished casting (as if finding minimally talented people in Los Angeles were that difficult) and may not be on the wagon, as he claims. Furthermore, one of the company's founders, Alex Green (Passion of Mind's Stellan Skarsgård), is too busy drinking and attempting to woo women into escaping from Hollywood to Tuscany with him to devote his energy to the new slate of flicks. Meanwhile, Emma (Saffron Burrows from Figgis' Miss Julie), who pines for Alex, is gushing to her therapist, and an overly enthusiastic masseur (Julian Sands) is caressing the muscles of anyone who strays into his path. There are also a couple of struggling actresses who actually want to appear in the film (Leslie Mann and Salma Hayek), and the vindictive Lauren Hathaway (Jeanne Tripplehorn, Mickey Blue Eyes) is on the trail of someone who has stolen her lover.

As can be expected, all of these people have hidden agendas, and Figgis loads the story with a lot of odd twists. Some of which work, while others induce groans. Backstabbing and egotism consume most of the characters. These traits make their anxieties unsympathetic. Like The Player and The Bad and the Beautiful, Time Code paints a less-than-affectionate portrait of the film capital but lacks the former films' consistency and freshness. To his credit, Figgis doesn't confuse enthusiasm with solemnity. With its modest budget and technical challenges, Time Code is clearly a labor of love. Nonetheless, Figgis frequently pokes fun at his own experiments. In one scene, a talented but pretentious young director (Mia Maestro) pitches an idea for a film like Time Code, which Alex dismisses. Time Code is even introduced in the opening credits as a "Red Mullet Production."

 There are also enough successful in-jokes to make the movie watchable, but the real reason to catch Time Code is its strange approach to storytelling. Seamless photography and split-screen images are far from new (Alfred Hitchcock experimented with the former, and Abel Gance with the latter), but the new technology allows Figgis to synthesize the two in a manner that rarely seems forced. The quality of the images is sometimes grainy, but the handheld-camera work is not jerky. Figgis and the other three camera operators follow the actors with skill that is remarkable, given that the story is improvised. The multi-image frame also keeps the movie from feeling static. Figgis does adjust the volume to draw the audience's attention to a specific corner of the screen at some points, but part of the pleasure of watching the film is the chance to wander from corner to corner of the screen and choosing which characters seem more interesting.

In some ways, the lack of a solid story may actually be an asset. With the emphasis on presentation in this movie, a tight, intricate tale would be lost with all the noodling. Time Code may be little more than a novelty, but Figgis' enthusiasm is obvious and occasionally contagious. (R)