The obsession with celebrity has permeated our culture down to the deep recesses of society. We addictively read about celebs in Us Weekly, watch them walk their dogs, attack paparazzi, and promote their films. But "Cold Souls" allows onlookers to delve a bit farther ... into the dark, grey and most intimate place of a person's being--inside Paul Giamatti's soul. And it's the size of a chickpea.

"Cold Souls," written and directed by Sophie Barthes, is a quirky, reality-meets-fantasy film about the business of extracting souls from the body. And it's none other than Paul Giamatti ("Sideways," "American Splendor"), playing himself, who humorously and tragically undertakes the uncharted task of becoming soulless.  

It all begins with Giamatti struggling to perform the part of Uncle Vanya by Russian playwright Anton Chekhov. Paul is depressed; he's lost his sense of humor. Not knowing what's wrong, or where to release the accumulated stress of the play, he reads a New Yorker article about a company that helps relieve suffering by removing the soul from the body. ("Tired of carrying your soul?" Now that I think about it...)  

In a minor, yet hilarious search for "Soul Storage" in the yellow pages, Paul decides to visit the Soul Storage Company. When his name is finally called in the waiting room, the other patients humorously realize it's the actor. These scenes become standard, and Giamatti plays them with the right amount of insecurity, gusto, and incredulity.  

Dr. Flintstein (David Strathairn) explains that his company has no clue how the soul functions--it merely knows how to "de-soul" the body. He mentions you can look inside your soul, and even store your soul in New Jersey...to avoid sales tax, of course. Paul shrieks. "I don't want my soul shipped to New Jersey!"  

Paul says he can no longer separate himself from the characters he portrays. He feels stuck. After taking a tour of other celebrity souls (the souls are blacks, browns, and greys), Paul himself goes through with the procedure.  

After having 95 percent of his soul was extracted (5 percent is left to keep him animated), Paul feels lighter, emptier, and overall, great ... until he begins to display unsympathetic, dark neurotic feelings. He's unable to communicate effectively, telling a friend she should unplug someone from life support, and his acting begins to suffer; he becomes absurd and over the top, providing us with the most hilarious depiction of Vanya. In a question-and-answer session after the film was shown at the Los Angeles Film Festival Barthes said she was convinced Giamatti began to imitate William Shatner. Giamatti said he would "never do that." Ha.

Meanwhile, we're introduced to Nina (Dina Korzun), a member of the Russian branch of soul extraction (It's huge in Russia), who recruits anonymous soul donors. The souls are then transported to the States where people are able to "experience" other souls. Feeling discontent soulless, Paul decides to try another person's soul. Deciding between actors and writers, he chooses the soul of a Russian poet. Giamatti is able to completely change his persona with each soul exchange, and it's only the strength of his ability that allows the film to overcome the unbelievable realm Barthes attempts to portray.

However, things go haywire when the soul-trafficking mule "borrows" Gamete's soul for a Russian soap opera actress, who believes she will become a better actress with an actor's soul.  Now embodying a poet's soul, Paul travels to St. Petersburg, where he confronts his inner being in the most peculiar and eccentric way.

"Cold Souls" straddles the line between comedy and tragedy, ultimately depicting the best of both worlds. With a fresh outlook on humanity, it's a film that's able to question our psyches without clouding us with textbook responses.  

Barthes said she conceptualized the idea of "de-soulling" from a dream she had two years ago.  

"In the dream I was in a strange office, very much like the one in the movie, and I was holding a white box, and everyone in line was holding the same box. And Woody Allen was there holding a box. A doctor came with an assistant and they told us that our souls had been extracted, and they were going to check the shape of our souls and tell us what our psychological problems were. So when Woody Allen's turn came and they opened his box, his soul was a little chickpea. And he got extremely offended and very neurotic about it and was kind of fidgeting and saying in the dream, 'There's no way! I made 40 movies, my soul can't be the size of a chickpea, this is a mistake.' And I thought, Woody Allen, my idol, has a chickpea soul. What's mine gonna look like? And I opened the box and the dream ended. So I didn't see my soul. But I woke up and I thought this is funny; a narrative dream. I've been writing my dreams a lot," she said.

After the dream revelation, Barthes thought of writing the role for Woody Allen.

"But then I saw "American Splendor" and was completely blown away by (Giamatti's) performance. I thought, 'This would be comical.' If he wasn't going to do it, I wasn't going to do the movie. I was lucky he liked it," she said.

Giamatti plays himself in the most humbling, twisty, comedic, and sentimental way, a character study with immense talent and sensibility. While one would think playing themselves would be daunting, Giamatti said that's what interested him about the role.

"I thought it was more of a type of neurotic, bearded, New York actor. So it's a type. The idea that it was me didn't really strike me so much until we started filming. I was like, 'Oh My God, I'm playing myself.' But the interesting thing was the soulless, the partially souled, or desouled, and having a Russian factory worker's soul. So that was the appealing part of it... It being me? I didn't really care," he said.  

Russia was also a big character within the film, but it almost never happened.  

Barthes said: "Russia was a pleasant surprise. The producers, at one point, were like, 'No way, we're not going to Russia. You have to shoot in Minnesota.' And I was like, 'No way, did you see the architecture? I'm not gonna shoot it there.' Russia was really a part of the script...we heard all these stories about corruptions, bribes, and actually we didn't have any problems...they were very professional."

Giamatti's experiences were similar, but he said he was intimidated to work with the Russian actors.  

"They were kinda terrifying, those people. They're really serious folks. They take it really seriously. Every one of them proclaimed, 'You realize you're working with greatest Russian actor.' Every one of them. But they were amazing," he said with laughter.  

When asked if any of them would extract their souls, Giamatti deadpanned, "I don't have a soul."

Oh, yes you do, Paul. And we've seen it in all its glory.