The dearth of high-quality independent films released so far this year has resulted in some bad movies being elevated to that rank undeservedly. None more so than Miguel Arteta's trite, amateurish, offensive Star Maps. Mistaking bad taste for realism, Arteta tells the story of young Carlos (the painfully inept Douglas Spain, whose only moment comes when he says "I can't act"), a Mexican teenager who dreams of becoming an actor but meanwhile bides his time peddling maps to the homes of Hollywood stars for his father, Pepe (Efrain Figueroa, who gives the film's only decent performance). He also has to peddle his ass, because his dad's racket is a front for a prostitution ring. Arteta underscores the grotesquerie and implausibility of the premise with every sentimental clichŽ about Hollywood and some ludicrous indulgences in magical realism. Although the film does achieve some unintentional hilarity through the dysfunctional excesses of Carlos's family (his brother is obese and demented, his mother is a hallucinating depressive), Star Maps is as phony as the title enterprise. At the Kendall Square.