In this complicated tale of the pressures on Mekhi Phifer in the Brooklyn projects, director Spike Lee captures the values and the iconography of the African-American community well, as he usually does. You get a genuine sense of the simmering anger, the shifting allegiances, and the small reward system of the social world these pathetic people live in.
Pfifer is the central figure and he sweats a lot. No brighter or better than he should be, he's pressured from one side into dealing cocaine by local mogul Delroy Lindo. On the other side, he's pushed by the manipulative but well-intentioned detectives Harvey Keitel and Stanley Turturro. Pfifer's handsome and upright brother is under arrest for murder but Keitel believes that Pfifer is the culprit. Pfifer's brother is simply too good, too compliant, to have done the deed.
Nice ambiguity. Lee convincingly nails the diversity and solidarity of the community. It's like John Ford in the ghetto. Pfifer may be innocent of the crime of which Keitel is convinced he's guilty but he also deals dope. Keitel, for all his ploying the system, is determined to bring the guilty party to justice, though he may play a little dirty in getting the job done. And when he finds out that he's been wrong about who committed the murder, he does what such a person would do in real life. He hides his guilt behind a tirade of threats.
In a way, it's an improvement over Spike Lee's "Do The Right Thing." It doesn't turn all the cops into heavies. And it doesn't end with an ominous quote from Malcolm X.
The weakness of the film lies in Lee's allowing conversations to go on for too long. Pfifer gets a lot of screen time and when he's not chewing out his young brother (who will save his life) he's whining about his innocence. The exchanges, sometimes rising to shouts, go on too long and become tiring.
It's a devalued life these people lead. They wear clothes and they groom themselves in ways that appeal only to those in their immediate and limited social worlds. I'm beginning to develop an idea. The more you resemble someone who is upper class and British, the more your social worth. The farther removed you are from this model, the lower your status. If you could take Pfifer, dress him in riding clothes and teach him to play polo, and have him say "eck-tually" instead of "aks," and have him grow some hair on his shaved and shiny skull, he might not be thought guilty of anything except being too polite.
Pfifer is the central figure and he sweats a lot. No brighter or better than he should be, he's pressured from one side into dealing cocaine by local mogul Delroy Lindo. On the other side, he's pushed by the manipulative but well-intentioned detectives Harvey Keitel and Stanley Turturro. Pfifer's handsome and upright brother is under arrest for murder but Keitel believes that Pfifer is the culprit. Pfifer's brother is simply too good, too compliant, to have done the deed.
Nice ambiguity. Lee convincingly nails the diversity and solidarity of the community. It's like John Ford in the ghetto. Pfifer may be innocent of the crime of which Keitel is convinced he's guilty but he also deals dope. Keitel, for all his ploying the system, is determined to bring the guilty party to justice, though he may play a little dirty in getting the job done. And when he finds out that he's been wrong about who committed the murder, he does what such a person would do in real life. He hides his guilt behind a tirade of threats.
In a way, it's an improvement over Spike Lee's "Do The Right Thing." It doesn't turn all the cops into heavies. And it doesn't end with an ominous quote from Malcolm X.
The weakness of the film lies in Lee's allowing conversations to go on for too long. Pfifer gets a lot of screen time and when he's not chewing out his young brother (who will save his life) he's whining about his innocence. The exchanges, sometimes rising to shouts, go on too long and become tiring.
It's a devalued life these people lead. They wear clothes and they groom themselves in ways that appeal only to those in their immediate and limited social worlds. I'm beginning to develop an idea. The more you resemble someone who is upper class and British, the more your social worth. The farther removed you are from this model, the lower your status. If you could take Pfifer, dress him in riding clothes and teach him to play polo, and have him say "eck-tually" instead of "aks," and have him grow some hair on his shaved and shiny skull, he might not be thought guilty of anything except being too polite.