It's 1965, and Crane (Greg Kinnear) is a popular L.A. deejay and a family man married to his high-school sweetheart, Anne (Rita Wilson), when he's tapped to star in Hogan's Heroes, the classic sitcom set in a Nazi POW camp. Thought initially controversial for making light of the regime that brought about the Holocaust, the show is a hit. For six years until Hogan's 1971 cancellation, Crane rules the airwaves as a bona fide TV star.

Off-screen, Crane's life begins to transform in ways he didn't anticipate. At first, it seems like his wandering eye only reaches as far as his garage, where his collection of nudie magazines disturbs the tranquility of his wife, but Crane assures her that he is a one-woman man. All of that changes when he meets a buddy of co-star Richard Dawson (Michael E. Rodgers), John Carpenter (Willem Dafoe), a salesmen who introduces Crane to his product, the then-revolutionary videotape recorder. The pair also begin to frequent strip clubs, where Crane finds that his new celebrity is the perfect ticket for picking up women — many, many women.

Well, it is the '60s, and Crane jumps into the free-love era with both feet, adopting the new mantra, "A day without sex is a day wasted." He also begins photographing and videotaping all of his sexploits. His hedonism doesn't come without a price, though — his first marriage breaks up, as does a second to Hogan co-star Sigrid Valdis (Maria Bello).

More problematic is Crane's relationship with Carpenter. Crane breaks it off for a time when he suspects that the man is bisexual — "a pervert," to his way of thinking. But when they become friends again, they're tighter than ever, with Carpenter even going so far as to travel with his old chum on dinner-theater tours. But the two men are a study in contrasts — Crane is an easygoing charmer, striving always to please and to keep things light. Carpenter is a socially inept pig — he tries to pick up one woman by showing her his new "f**k time" watch with a display of a couple copulating — who relies on his pal's charisma in his own hunt for women. When Crane meets his ignominious end in a Scottsdale, Arizona motel room, Carpenter is suspect number one. Though he is eventually tried and acquitted, Auto Focus doesn't bother with the niceties of reasonable doubt — according to its events, Carpenter's guilty.

The film tries to make a case for Crane as the poster boy for fame's dark side, but it never quite succeeds. For one thing, his sexual habits, though certainly priapic, are hardly scandalous. He wasn't a pedophile or a rapist, and while it was crude of him to videotape some of his partners without their knowledge, voyeurism is hardly earthshattering. Schrader himself makes a case for the mundanity of Crane's sex life, as he catalogs one sexual misadventure after another and it all adds up to one big, anti-erotic snooze. Auto Focus also tries to lay the blame for Crane's career misfortunes on his bad-boy behavior, pointing out that Disney dropped him when the studio heard rumors about his after-hours habits. But how many sitcom stars bounce back into the big time after their show is cancelled? And the movies Crane appeared in for Disney, Superdad and Gus, wouldn't exactly add luster to anyone's career.

Screenwriter Gerbosi adds a curious subplot to Crane's story as Carpenter, ever the salesman, unveils one new product after another to his friend. At those moments the movie practically turns into gearhead porn, chronicling a history of home-consumer video products from the VTR to the heady days of Betamax. Dafoe embraces those moments, recognizing the opportunity to add dimension and warmth to the reptilian Carpenter. His performance stands in marked contrast to Kinnear, who remains well-hidden by colored contacts and dyed hair. His Crane never rises above a caricature; Kinnear keeps a fastidious distance from the character, as if afraid that his subject's career nosedive might rub off on him.

Auto Focus begins with a jazzy, animated, Saul Bass-influenced title sequence that simultaneously celebrates and sends up the '60s. It is absolutely inspired. The trouble is, nothing else in the movie is. If this was the best that Schrader and company could do by Crane, then the actor ought to have been allowed to rest in peace.