By Matt Soergel
Florida Times-Union

Steven Soderbergh has become one of the two or three consistently interesting filmmakers out there.

Ah, but don't you usually dread "interesting" films, those dour/oddball/button-pushing exercises in vanity? Have no fear here: Soderbergh doesn't forget about entertaining, either. He does entertain, thoroughly, with off-kilter thrillers that seem even more exhilarating after month after month of mainstream studio junk from yet another journeyman director or yet another music-video whiz given an unlimited budget on which to gorge.

Soderbergh has been on a roll lately: Erin Brockovich, which successfully married independent-film sensibilities with Julia Roberts; The Limey, a perfect slice of noir-heaven; and Out of Sight, a sublimely sexy caper that managed the miraculous feat of capturing Elmore Leonard's wry tone on film.

Traffic's even better.

This new film, clearly the best of the past year, starts off as a kick-butt drama about the drug wars. Only later does it reveal that what it's really about is the futility of that war.

Shot almost completely with handheld cameras, with Soderbergh himself at the controls most of the time, Traffic has some of the visceral pop that's largely been missing from movies since Pulp Fiction.

The action scenes are streamlined and tense: Check out an armed chase into a kiddie restaurant called Funzone ("Where the fun never ends"). And his story, though sometimes a little too neatly diagrammed, is properly hard-boiled, perfectly deadpan, perfectly compelling.

Traffic has a huge cast (with some clever cameos) and a series of interrelated stories to tell.

In one thread, Michael Douglas is an Ohio judge appointed to be the nation's next drug czar. He takes it seriously, hobnobbing with Washington pols (look for some familiar faces in that scene) and even traveling to the U.S.-Mexico border to see what's going on for himself.

There's a great scene there where he urges his new colleagues to think "out of the box" for ways to stop the flow of drugs. They are rendered practically mute: There's nothing in or out of the box that can do much of anything about the problem.

Meanwhile, back at home, his honor-roll daughter (Erika Christensen, who looks a lot like Julia Stiles) is hanging with her posse of preppy rich kids in blazers and kilts, freebasing coke and making snarky comments while watching Dynasty. Soon she's on the street, willing to do anything for her next fix.

For the new drug czar, the problem has hit home, literally. This irony at first seems too neat a development for a movie as deft as this one. But that objection is soon dropped: This tragic little subplot builds considerable force.

In another thread, two Mexican policemen (Benecio Del Toro and Jacob Vargas) get sucked into a vortex created by Mexico's drug-fighting Gen. Salazar (Tomas Milian), a ruthless soldier whose motives may or may not be noble.

Vargas is good in everything he's been in, even such junk as Next Friday, where he played Ice Cube's gangbanging neighbor. It's The Usual Suspects' Del Toro, though, who is Oscar-worthy, caught between Mexican and American authorities, between instant riches and whatever sense of honor he can hang on to.

The third thread of the movie takes place in San Diego, where Helena Ayala (Catherine Zeta-Jones), a very pregnant, very rich woman, discovers that her whole prosperous life was built on her husband's drug money. Under pressure from undercover federal agents (Don Cheadle and Luis Guzman), a mid-level dealer (Miguel Ferrer) is about to implicate her husband, leaving her penniless.

Helena's only help isn't much help -- it's her husband's too-tanned lawyer (played with a perfect smirk by Dennis Quaid), who reminisces about the good days in Miami, back in the mid-'80s, when Miami Vice was king. So Helena has to take charge herself.

Soderbergh handles these stories deftly, helped by film stock that changes with the location: Mexico, for example, is sunburnt and bleached, Ohio is icy and blue.

And here's a surprise, at least for a major studio movie: People in Mexico actually speak Spanish, not heavily accented English. (We in the audience get subtitles.) It's just another welcome, careful touch, another thing right about Traffic.