'Unscripted' is a Fresh Look at The Lives of Struggling Actors

It's old news that most Hollywood actors don't make as many movies or as much money as, say, George Clooney. They struggle for years and finally get to mutter a single line on "According to Jim" or squeeze into a string bikini for a porn-like fitness tape. Almost all of Hollywood's self-images -- from "Singin' in the Rain" and "The Player" to Bravo's "The It Factor" -- include the aspiring stars waiting on tables and waiting for a break. Producers hit on them, casting directors humiliate them, and agents try to herd them onto reality shows. It's the life of "Joey," minus the laugh track and the high-carb meals.

But hey, it's also old news that mobsters have family issues and that some housewives are desperate enough to seduce the lawn boy. HBO's bittersweet new Hollywood comedy, "Unscripted," is certainly guilty of covering well-trod territory, as it follows three starving actors from cheesy sitcom auditions to pretentious acting classes. But the 10-episode series, which premieres Sunday at 10 p.m., is a surprisingly involving piece of fictional verite. Created by Clooney and Steven Soderbergh, the team behind HBO's disastrous "K Street," it unfolds with a freshness and sly humor that should make it a cult favorite for those who don't mind inside baseball. It has the intimate charm of an indie film -- cynical, slight, and unexpectedly touching.

The show is largely improvised, like "Curb Your Enthusiasm," with episodes that have arcs but no set dialogue from scene to scene. And like Robert Altman's "The Player," it is a fun house of real actors playing themselves, from Noah Wyle and Brad Pitt to Hank Azaria, who hosts a testosterone-fueled poker game in episode 3. This atmosphere of unrehearsed realism extends to the documentary filming style, which has a videocam-like rawness to it. In an interesting decision, though, Soderbergh and Clooney have given the footage a golden hue, which serves as an ironic allusion to the fabled days when producers stumbled upon tomorrow's superstars at Schwab's Drugstore or the Top Hat Café. No one is stumbling upon today's wannabes, unless they're panhandling on Sunset Boulevard.

The real stars of "Unscripted" are its three unknown lead actors, Krista Allen, Jennifer Hall, and Bryan Greenberg, who all play versions of themselves. Krista, who looks like an American Elizabeth Hurley, is trying to shed her sex queen image, a difficult task after having made "Emmanuelle" movies in the 1990s. Jennifer is a Southern newbie, with a cherubic face that hides her ferocity and grit. And Bryan, who styles himself as an alternative WB heartthrob, is hoping to be the next Johnny Depp after having landed spots on "Third Watch" and "Life With Bonnie."

The three are in a scene-study class together, and it's clear that Jennifer is smitten with Bryan, who's smitten with Krista, who's simply tired of being smitten with. But their romantic longings are quite secondary to the gist of "Unscripted," which is most concerned with what happens to integrity in a town built to steal it and sell it to the masses. While HBO's other Hollywood-com, "Entourage," cheerfully celebrates the decadence of a young star spoiled by instant fame, "Unscripted" is its poor cousin. When single mom Krista talks interestedly about how some women sell their eggs for cash, you realize just how insecure her situation is. The title "Unscripted" refers not only to the style of the show but to the unpredictability of its characters' lives.

As in "Curb," the best comic material doesn't end in punch lines. It's situational, with an occasional laugh-out-loud bit -- when Bryan auditions for a western in biker leather, for instance, or when sweet Jennifer sings a man-hating screed that spooks her date, Mike O'Malley from "Yes, Dear." But the show is equally suffused with heartbreak, particularly once the characters' private dramas emerge after the first two episodes. Like so many promising TV shows, "Unscripted" takes a few hours to find its footing and build into something distinct. The stability in these three actors' lives is their class and its teacher, Goddard Fulton, who is played with mighty confidence and eye-rolling arrogance by Frank Langella. Goddard plays God during his sessions, as he intimidates his students into richer performances by yelling ultimatums such as, "If you want to be an actor, you have to be dangerous." He watches them with the close intensity of a loving parent, but he's not above sleeping with the pretty ones if it suits him. Like all the power brokers Krista, Jennifer, and Bryan face in show business, he has a price.

Matthew Gilbert can be reached at gilbert(at)globe.com.