All These Moments Will Be Lost In Time, Like Tears In Rain: Blade Runner (1982)

I am walking down a very dangerous slope right now by reviewing Blade Runner.  Well, not really, it is just the first time I have decided to over space here on the blog to a film that I have a deep admiration for, so much so that it is my third favorite film of all time.  I have reviewed films since the blog started that have since made it into my favorites list, but nothing quite like this, where my attachment to the film emerged well before I ever thought of devoting time to writing about movies on the expansive web.  As such, I am wholly aware that my opinion of this film might be clouded by some bizarre mixture of over-zealous adoration, flakes of nostalgia and genuine belief that everyone should see this film.  Frankly, I am quite fine with that because Blade Runner is a masterpiece, even if half of the people I recommend the film to come back to me frustrated at being forced to sit through a two hour film that drones along.  Indeed, I am often mounted with attacks on the film being "boring." While I can understand such critiques, I would context that the very ambient nature of the film is what makes Blade Runner work twofold as a deep reflection on the existential questions of human life in a world where it can be easily and near perfectly replicated.  Furthermore, because it makes careful strides to exist as a neo-noir thriller, the malaise and sense of dread that comes purely with being alive and on-the-run comes second only to the absolutely dreary world of Le Samouraï.  One might assume a sort of cult attachment to a work like Blade Runner, something that is afforded a less realized, but certainly enjoyable sci-fi work like Soylent Green or Logan's Run, however, Blade Runner also happens to be a work of cinematic genius, one whose composition, editing and execution are all signifiers of how to compose a film and use the language of movies to their greatest advantage (although this did take upwards of five cuts and re-cuts to achieve, my personal preference going to the 1992 Director's Cut).  Indeed, if one of the great achievements of a film is to leave viewers not with a variety of answers, but a series of questions and inquiries, then Blade Runner achieves this to the highest degree, as it ends in perhaps the most perplexing of manners, asking the identity of its main character and causing as much of a contentious debate as the closing section of 2001: A Space Odyssey still demands.

Blade Runner focuses its neo-noir narrative on the future world of Los Angeles, at the time 2019, wherein humans living on Earth have begun to colonize the spaces of the farthest reaches of the galaxy, relying not only on the advances of weaponry and technology, but on the creation of living and synthetic being known as Replicants, whose sole purpose is to be a being that is "more human than humans," while also still existing as a form of slave labor.  A particular group of Replicants defined as the Nexus 6 models have come to realize that their own lives are of more value than mere labor for humans and seek not only to free themselves from this hinderance, but also to negate another issue with being a Replicant, which is the factor of only having a four year life span.  As such a group of these Nexus 6 models have returned to Earth and are attempting to reach the leader of Tyrell Corporation, Dr. Eldon Tyrell (Joe Turkell) to bargain for their models begin upgraded for a further lifespan.  This navigation of neo-Los Angeles is not that simple though, proving difficult and bloody as the Replicant's leader Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer) kills viciously in the name of achieving what he desires, life at a greater length.  To prevent such occurrence, individuals known as Blade Runners are introduced into the society to hunt down and stifle--often violently--any rouge Replicants.  In this case Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) is the Blade Runner tasked with preventing the Nexus 6 models from reaching their goal.  Working against the clock, Deckard goes to the top and illicits the help of Tyrell directly, who places his own hyper-real Replicant Rachael (Sean Young) in charge of guiding Deckard.  However, when it becomes rather clear that Batty and his partner Nexus models, specifically sex model Pris (Daryl Hannah) are quite ahead of the game, Deckard moves into a state of paranoia and worry that is doubled by his own identity crisis as he begins to navigate his own memories in relation to the larger issue of Replicants.  Eventually, Batty is able to track down and kill the various engineers of his body, each failing to over him the one thing he so greatly desires, a chance to live longer.  This rage culminates in a confrontation between he and Deckard on the rooftop of a decrepit Los Angeles apartment, where Batty delivers a monologue on what memory means when it is lost forever.  Deckard confused leaves the scene and rescues Rachael, but not before one sequence suggests his own future to be tenuously short and dire.

I realize even as I attempt to hit the highlights of this film in a plot description that it is barely even skimming the surface of the layers of narrative and theoretical implications in the film.  The Los Angeles on display in this film is a space that is completely modernized, one that has built upon itself a new layer, wherein, like in the classic Fritz Lang film Metropolis, privilege is reflected in being above ground, here in a very literal sense.  Allowing for the navigation of the noir elements of the film to take place on the saturated seedy streets of Los Angeles that are so densely populated that to navigate them is an existential maze in themselves.  Here Ridley Scott reverts the expressionist streets of loneliness and anguish noted in classic noir films into something completely claustrophobic.  The existential threat here is not the individual in relation to an expanse of nothingness, but in relation to an inescapable sense of everything compounding upon a singular individual.  Indeed, it is this identity in relation to a larger, all-consuming pressure that makes the Replicant versus human debate all the more fascinating.  The question in Blade Runner is about the point in which emotion outweighs the physical advantages of being human.  Indeed, what individuals like Tyrell and Deckard seem to think advances them is the ability to think not about the logic of a situation, but how that situation might make them feel.  Their ability to look at a Replicant as an 'other,' is predicated not on any physical signifiers, but one's that are wholly of a theoretical space.  Yet, in a panoptic kind of way, eyes still factor in heavily to how this is judged as if perceptions of emotions and feelings are a thing that is tangible.  Scott, borrowing from the Phillip K. Dick novella seems to say that to have one physical way of testing an emotional "awakeness" of an individual is futile, because it is still predicated upon looking, which is a physical act itself.  The physical body as superior is indeed dealt with quite intensely, as Batty represents not only an insurmountable force of power that can navigate any space regardless of its physical barriers, but also as a replication of the Aryan ideal of perfect human.  The privilege in this film is predicated upon a belief that somehow the human can feel human, but can only know such a feeling if they are human.  The Nexus 6 Replicants spit in the face of this presumptive issue and very little is done to negate their actions as noting the illogical structure of humanity as a felt thing.  Embodiment and humanity within Blade Runner move full-on into the space of post-humanism by contesting that one must always and at once consider how it will be effected and and affected.

Key Scene:  The "tears in rain" monologue, obviously.

The recently released 30th anniversary bluray is stunning.  It has every conceivable cut of the film and enough special features to make any fan happy.  Obtaining it is of necessity.

It's Like You Said. All I Am Is What I Am Going After: Heat (1995)

Heat, a much appreciated Michael Mann film, may well possess the most accurate tagline in being described as "A Los Angeles Crime Thriller," for it is precisely that and its nearly three hour runtime is much welcomed and heavy with intensity.  I will admit that this movie was nowhere near the top of my radar until I heard its name repeatedly being dropped on both Battleship Pretension and Filmspotting, two of my favorite blogs, as well as being mentioned on blogs as well.  I could not believe that it had managed to elude me for so long, because Heat is a god damn revelation.  Many people seem weary of a star heavy vehicle, of which Heat is certainly guilty, casting Al Pacino, Robert De Niro and Val Kilmer, the latter being a minor role, despite being arguably at the height of his career during the period.    It would be one thing if Heat were just a cool action movie, because there were certainly a considerable amount of those coming out around the time, but it is so very much more than that and fits in well with the introspective cop thriller, much in the same vein of Training Day or even much earlier film noir pieces like The Maltese Falcon.  Mann has a vision in his film, one of a group of intertwined criminals and law enforcers who, nonetheless, seem to lead desultory lives, ones that tragically require them to keep anyone they care for at more than an arms length.  The vision of Los Angeles that Mann provides viewers is both a love letter and an honest critique of its faltering state.  As characters move through its spaces they clearly cling to its comfort, but also manage to exist separated from it, happening very literally when Mann incorporates a green screen during certain scenes, which certainly has its production reasons, however, it does not mean a loss of metaphor in the terms of the characters attempting to distance themselves from their troubled worlds.  Heat is a film that provides viewers with a story that has a slew of questions and inquires and little to few answers given in return.  I would be more than willing to suggest that this big gem of a film is easily one of the best offerings of the 90's and certainly deserved of mention in the same breath as Pulp Fiction or the previously mentioned Training Day.

Heat is a multifaceted and multidirectional story that, nonetheless, centers on a large scale chess game of sorts between high profile crime boss Neil McCauley (Robert De Niro) and the by-the-cuff detective Lieutenant Vincent Hanna (Al Pacino).  McCauley has recently come to the attention of Hanna after a recent armored car robbery goes awry leading to the murder of a couple of guards at the hands of one of McCauley's hired hands, the wily Waingro (Kevin Gage).  This act of killing makes the robbers enemy number one, requiring the aging Hanna to spend an unusual amount of time and the precinct, much to the contesting of his wife Justine (Diane Venora) who is longing for more time with her husband, as well as hoping that he can serve as a positive role model for his stepdaughter Lauren (Natalie Portman).  McCauley certainly has his own set of problems, serving as an unwilling role model to a young guy named Chris (Val Kilmer) whose attempts to make a living despite a gambling addiction proves troublesome to his ability to properly engage in crimes, let alone prove a faithful partner to his wife Charlene (Ashley Judd) as well as his own role model issues with their son.  What unfolds within the rest of the plot is a twisting and turning narration of each side chasing and diverting one another casting a very detailed light over the means by which crime and crime prevention occur within the city of Los Angeles.  Of course, the two sides seem quite hesitant to vilify one another, particularly McCauley and Hanna who form a mutual respect for one another, even sharing a cup of coffee in one of the films best scenes.  However, considering that both sides are inherently opposed a confrontation does occur and many lives are lost in the process, however, it is clear that the two main figures have grown in considerable ways, unfortunately for McCauley, his own refusal to submit to companionship proves to be his demise as he loses a shootout with Hanna, who at that point clearly has nothing to lose, although his letting go of everything, in the end, allows him to regain the love of his wife and perhaps a new outlook to his previously failing life.

What Heat manages to do is completely destroy any sort of clear delineation between good and evil in the traditional sense, particularly since the main characters who are traditionally the points of division between both sides constantly cross between the realms of what is right and what is terribly wrong.  For example, Hanna clearly intends to proctor justice to those doing wrong, but his methodology and manner often exploits those weaker than himself, or truly means his turning a cold shoulder to his family life, especially when he could easily have passed his task on to another individual.  Furthermore, McCauley clearly wants to get out of the game and make right by his past actions, yet his ties to such negative behavior cannot be ignored, and certainly should not be, considering that it did result in some degree of death and inherently bad behavior.  In fact, one incredibly telling moment during the film is the bank robbery, in which, McCauley explains to the patrons that he is not stealing their money because it is insured by the government, but is actually stealing the money from the bank.  Mann was perhaps a bit prophetic in this scene, considering that banks have, in the past few years, become a signifier of all that is bad and in doing so the director draws a connection to the bad, allowing for both Hanna and McCauley to move into the spectrum of goodness.  Similarly, Mann sets up the character of Waingro to be exceptionally insane and a signifier of somebody who is decidedly evil, yet again to serve as a counter to the two main character and their faltering moral compasses.  Mann even incorporates minor characters into the film plot to help show the difference between a criminal or cop who is corrupt and one who is attempting to be good, this clearly occurs with the characters of Donald (Dennis Haysbert) and Harry (Dan Martin) who serve as examples of individuals try to navigate their respective realms of corruption, despite dealing with inherently bad people.  While Mann never really provides a solid answer to whose side hails as morally superior, he does seem to suggest that karma is a major thing and that doing good, will eventually pay off.

Key Scene:  De Niro and Pacino in the diner is a thing of beauty.  The subtlety of De Niro and the grandioseness of Pacino equates to something perfect as the actors sort of balance one another.  It is a scene for the ages.

Buy this film, it is dirt cheap and a burgeoning classic, be hip to its importance before all your friends are aware of it and you will be the "in" person when it comes to cinema.

Maybe If You Stopped Getting Drunk And Buying Stuff Off Craigslist: Entrance (2012)

I will openly admit that the first half an hour or so of this film had me really confused as to why the guys over at Battleship Pretension would even have the nerve to suggest this film, let alone fall out of their seats demanding that people go out of their way to watch it, of course I came around to their statement, especially for the back half of this movie which proves to satirically slap everything viewers have come to signify as low budget indie filmmaking.  Of course, Dallas Richard Hallam and Patrick Horvath's purposefully slow-paced horror film is by no means perfect and fails to properly deliver its premise in a timely manner, making a considerable amount of the film seems like superfluous, begging the question as to whether or not the last thirty minutes would not serve themselves better as a short film.  I am quite baffled by the clear disdain that has arisen towards this film, primarily from two parties, the indie film elites who find the horrific closing portions of the film unnecessarily gory, while on the other end horror fanatics who are incredibly dismissive of the lack of plot and terrible acting.  I wish to criticize both parties in their indictment, in so much as those who think the film is a travesty to indie film need to remember that most major success in the style often rely on a major absurdist event to bind the plot, where as horror films (at least the die hard ones) should never complain about inadequate acting and misguided plots, because they are a staple of the genre.  I will admit that the twist becomes rather predictable early on into viewing, yet no amount of assumption could prepare me for the very real intensity which happens when the film's bottom falls out and all hope of normalcy and reason disappear.  While Entrance has nothing on the absolute brilliance of Cabin in the Woods as a satire, it certainly manages to offer a new way to consider a filmmaking style as well as a genre, ultimately, making for a welcome and brief viewing experience far from the terrible film so many people seem insistent on reviewing.

In traditional indie film fashion Entrance begins by incessantly focusing on the most monotonous and irrelevant actions of a woman named Suziey (Suziey Block), a name I will admit is a bit excessive.  She seems content to drink heavily and work a few hours at her barista job, barely making enough to afford rent.  Her only point of happiness seems to exist with her close connection to her dog named Daryll, yet again not the greatest name choice ever.  Yet during a shower one night and overarching feeling of dread seems to consume Suziey and she hobs out of the shower to search her house, a quest that yields no results, but does little to avert her paranoia.  Seeking some sort of explanation for her disdain she resorts to a variety of actions, but when her dog goes missing she loses all sense of rationality and engages in some rather destructive behavior, some of which involves drunkenly sleeping with a man who attempts to leave unnoticed the next morning.  During one night of sleeping in a bed with her friend a light comes upon them off camera suggesting somebody is watching her, an act immediately followed by a photograph being taken.  While she cannot verify that any of these paranoid feelings are valid, Suziey, nonetheless, knows that she cannot stay in Los Angeles and plans to leave, but not without having one last party of drunken decadence.  During this party the lights go out and assuming it to be a circuit break, Suziey heads down to fix it, only to be attacked by a masked man upon successfully turning them back on.  After the unknown individual confesses his love for her he proceeds to kill the attendees of the party one by one, leaving only Suziey to share in his vision of unity.  In a disturbingly poetic last scene, the killer forces Suziey to look upon the L.A. nightscape with his arms around her, suggesting that her future, despite her misgivings, will invariably involve staying put.

The metaphor in this film is a beautiful thing, often in the works of indie filmmakers it is blatantly obvious and obnoxious, at least I felt this to be the case with something like The Pleasure of Being Robbed wherein the metaphor of robbing people was to reflect the main characters own inability to engage with society in a productive manner, yet her well-to-do appearance and unusual means to escape the malaise of her life just did not equate to a decent film.  Entrance instead uses the idea of being "killed" by your surroundings in a very literal manner to undermine the half-inspired diatribes of indie kids living in cites and situations which they think themselves always above.  The film completely displays that the monotony and "tragedy" of these hipster kids lives are actually not worth of being dead over, especially when they indeed die and plead for their well-being to magically return.  Of course, the film could have established this notion much earlier instead of making the paranoia be the main narrative focus for nearly an hour of the film, yet I cannot help but enjoy the means by which an intensity is built from the moment the shower scene occurs up until the final moments on the balcony.  If I were to produce any single critique about the metaphor it would easily be directed at the somewhat passive means by which the film deals with Suziey's apparent alcoholism, especially since in the death metaphor her own addiction proves the sole factor, aside, of course, from mass murder in keeping her stationary.  She could stop her path of destruction and move away when she pleases, but she is far to indifferent and attached to monotony to do so and a very real act of destruction forces her to accept that disconcerting fact.  Hell, Entrance really does some clever things with its cinematic output and it should really be reconsidered by the many parties who seem intent on dismissing if for single factors.

Key Scene:  The killer reveal is obvious in its timing, yet it is so intense that it still manages to be the best portion of the film, not to mention that it involves some rather impressive single shot takes.

This is a quick watch on Netflix and well worth spending an afternoon with, I am still somewhat on the fence about completely liking the film and would love to hear some more thoughts on its nature and execution.

The Shit's Chess, It Ain't Checkers: Training Day (2001)

There are quite a few movies that you and your friends plan on watching well ahead of time, usually these works are reserved for the real classics of cinema, whether they be a solid Hitchcock film or Woody Allen, or one tends to lean in the direction of a cult classic film, often pulling some Tarantino off the shelf, or popping in a solid horror genre classic.  However, there is such a time when you and your friends engage in a night of pretty solid partying and the next day results in you all moving sluggishly around whatever abode you all have crashed in and agree to do nothing more than watch a few movies and order in deliciously unhealthy Chinese food.  The movies which tend to emerge in these situations are quite often some of the best revelations one can encounter in cinema, famous cases from my past including such greats as In Bruges and The Wrestler.  I was fortunate enough to have one of these days today when being talked into watching Training Day, a film with which I was initially hesitant to pop in and pushed hard in the direction of a comedy.  Much to my surprise, being outvoted into watching Training Day proved quite fruitful and I was able to consume a generally brilliant work and do so with little to no distraction, which is quite necessary when dealing with such a subtly complex piece of film.  Director Antoine Fuqua makes something profound with the cop thriller that incorporates some beautiful moments of experimental filmmaking along with an onslaught of intensely filmed and edited action sequences to produce a movie both visceral and contemplative, never once provided viewers with a moment to rest and assess the situation.  Dealing with the very tumultuous world of narcotics, Training Day packs a veritable punch of madness and ethical reappropriation in a way that helps me to understand precisely why it has come to gain such a significant reputation.  Considering all this, if you still find yourself uncertain as to why this work is so well received and remembered please refer to the performance by Denzel Washington, it is pretty damn close to perfection.

As the title suggests, Training Day is condensed within a singular days events, all focusing on policeman Jake Hoyt (Ethan Hawke) who is undertaking his first day as a narcotics officer in Los Angeles.  Hoyt's trainer is the hot-headed and somewhat unethical detective Alonzo Harris (Denzel Washington) who sees it fit to train Hoyt in the ways of the streets by a variety of hands on experience. It is also quite clear that Harris has no qualms regarding the means by which he obtains confessions or information to drug cases, using duplicitous words and physical means to draw a confession out of an individual and within his undercover car seems intent on taking drugs and consuming alcohol as a means to get into the role of a narcotics officer.  Even when Hoyt goes out of his way to save a girl from being raped, Harris chastises him claiming that within the narcotics division he cannot be the gun wielding, live saving cop style he preferred before.  However, as the day continues and Harris becomes more involved in problematic actions, particularly those involving planting of evidence and the buying off of search warrants, Hoyt begins to rebel against the seemingly omniscient Harris whose ties to corruption go as high as district attorneys.  It is when Hoyt finally confronts Harris about his misuse of power and corruption during an unjust raid that things become intense, in a gun heavy standoff Harris eventually claims that it is a greater form of justice to attack high level drug pushers through non-legal actions than traditional forms of justice and that the law has little sway over people with such levels of power.  Seeming as though he has finally made some sort of agree to disagree relationship with Harris, Hoyt agrees to go with him to a gang house, where Harris quickly ditches him to die at the hands of gangsters.  Yet upon his being beaten it is discovered that the girl he saved earlier was one of the gangsters nieces leading to his immediate forgiveness to which Hoyt takes up hunting down and exacting violent revenge on Harris, ultimately, ending with his being gunned down by Russian mobsters to whom he owed money, while Hoyt returns home from what will, undoubtedly, prove to be his most troublesome day on the force.

Justice is a frail subject, one that is often malleable but always at the risk of being completely shattered by a multitude of problematizing examples.  I am fairly certain that notions of this have emerged on my blog before, especially in the handful of films I have reviewed previously which center to some degree on law enforcement, however, notices of justice and ethics are particularly interesting within Training Day because we as viewers are asked to consider what degree of comfort and trust we place in law officials to do their jobs, especially when their jobs require dealing with high level criminals as multiple near death dangers in a single day.  Harris is not necessarily a bad individual, all be it, he does appear to engage in heavy drug and alcohol use and an extramarital affair.  He admits openly that part of being a successful undercover agent is to look and act the part of an individual in the narcotics world, which means being willing to be familiar with the drugs being peddled on the streets to the youth specifically.  It would be a pressing issue if one were to discover the level of tax dollars being directed at such methods of crime prevention, especially since on a quick cursory glance one would assume that law enforcement was using community money to fund their own drug use.  Furthermore, the film is quite aware of what problems arise when a police officer attempts to use violence or threats as a means of coercing a suspect into confession or provide information.  Both Hoyt and Harris are careful with how they extract information from individuals who are fully aware of their rights and protections under the law, this is seen rather effectively when they approach a wheelchair bound crack dealer.  However, there are moments of clear transcendence regarding justice as it relates to human identity regardless of a cop or criminal mentality.  The act of attempted rape is deemed bad by every individual involved and at one point provides for a moment of unity at its being prevented, of course another issue arises when considering the notion of male protection and what role the trauma of female experience plays into this, but that is another post and discussion all its own, perhaps more inclined for whenever I get around to watching I Spit On Your Grave.

Key Scene:  The moment when Hoyt begins having hallucinatory experiences as a result of inhaling PCP, is done with a certain experimental poise that makes for an interesting moment of slow pace and serenity in an otherwise heavy and fast paced film.

This movie is a surprise and intensely watchable, the bluray is considerably cheap and well worth the investment.

It's Hard To Age Gracefully In The Game, And Still Stay In The Game: Snoop Dogg's Hood of Horror (2006)

I could not begin to explain what inspired me to include this bit of movie in my horror movie reviews for the month aside from the inability to ignore a horror movie that not only looked nearly unwatchable, but also had Snoop Dogg, or Snoop Lion as he now refers to himself, as a narrator and character within its plot.  I clicked play on this expecting it to be god-awful only to be surprised by some surprisingly good production value and interesting story concepts.  Of course the acting is not great and many of the messages being propagated throughout the film are all too on the nose, to steal a phrase used buy the guys over at Battleship Pretension, you can "see the strings" all over this film, but considering that the film aims to be a B-movie and nothing more, this blatant use of metaphor and message is at the very least tolerable.  If we take a film like Hood of Horror's at face value it could be much worse, say in the realm of some of the Leprechaun sequels, yet between the anime style connecting scenes, a hip soundtrack and what can only be describe as an earnest attempt to make a set of horror shorts, this is a rousingly good time as far as schlocky contemporary horror is concerned.  Were it not for the absolute thrill that The Host has proven to be, I would gladly place Hood of Horror's at the top of the horror films for 2006, although with the exception of the previously mentioned films it was not a particularly stellar year for horror regardless, or films in general, unless you found yourself living in a foreign country, say Spain or Germany.  I am sure as this months ends and I return to watching non-genre films, Hood of Horrors will become lost in the past, but for the moment I want to relish in its simple enjoyment.  One could say that Hood of Horrors is almost Shakespearian...almost.

As noted Hood of Horrors exists as a set of short films within a larger narrative centering around the experiences of Devon (Snoop Dogg/Lion), also known as HOH, a ex-gangsta turned demon who sold his soul in order to bring back the life of his sister, whom he accidentally murdered.  His life as a demon requires that he go about taking the lesser spirits of the world back to hell, of course allowing them first to die on Earth.  The first story focuses on Polsie (Danielle Alonso) a young girl who is a graffiti artist with a penchant for avenging the murder of her mother at the hands of her insane father.  In order to gain this she obtains dark powers from a warlock named Derelict (Danny Trejo) that allows her to use her spray can to literally x out people from living, often in very grotesque ways.  yet when her love for killing becomes an obsession, Derelict takes away her power and she  is visited by the zombies of those she has killed, eventually leading to her death against a church wall that she had agreed to paint, making her, as Devon suggests an example of life imitating art.  The second narrative, less horror oriented focuses on a racist slumlord named Tex Junior (Anson Mount) who attempts to take a shelter created by his father for black Vietnam veterans and turn it into his own den of iniquity.  After the death of a member of the group the veterans exact revenge on their Tex Junior, in yet another gory moment.  The third story focuses on rapper Sod (Pooch Hall) making a deal with God to become a famous rapper, which leads to him meeting Quon (Aries Spears) and becoming famous instantaneously.  However, power and fame goes to Sod's head causing him to become prideful and envious to the point of killing Quon and act that leads to him being confronted by one of God's servants who uses a television to help him realize the err of his ways, as well as calling upon an apparition of the dead Quon  to cause Sod to kill his guard/henchman Jersey, played by over the hill professional wrestler Diamond Dallas Page.  Eventually, in paranoia Sod takes on an entire police squad only to die in a hail of bullets, alone and abandoned by God.

Revenge, pride and racism all inhabit the rhetoric of the stories told within Hood of Horrors, sure they are a bit on the nose and laughable in their construction, but I find it to be reflective of many of urban black films and their attempts to rationalize urban black experiences.  Whether it be in the serious and cinematic manner of Menace II Society, or in the satirical and exploitative ways of something like Black Dynamite heavy handed metaphor seems to be the route used to approach such narratives.  Hood of Horrors, while certainly entrenched in notions of the gang lifestyle and rags to riches rap rhetoric, seriously condemns the acts that have become all to common in urban neighborhoods, such as those of Southern Los Angeles, the home of none other thanSnoop Dogg/Lion himself.  The problem with these films is that they become a bit essentialist in how they portray black lifestyle in this particular section of the United States as being incredibly nihilistic and promote escapism over activism and change.  Compare it to the self-reflective manner of something like Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing, or Julie Dash's experimental portrayal of an African-American community in Daughters of the Dust and you have a film that is less than stellar in its social critique of hood life and its problems.  Of course, I would never imagine that this film set out to be the harbinger of commentary and demand for change in urban black communities, yet it attempts to say some considerably pertinent things and, as such, its methods must be critiqued.

Key Scene:  The anime-style scenes are gory in a simulation manner that makes them somewhat fun to watch without being absurd or sickening.

I am in no way leaping at the opportunity to recommend this movie as a must watch film, but should you find yourself with a hour and some change of free time then by all means check out Hood of Horrors, if only for Jason Alexander's terrible British accent.