After co-writing Creed II, and getting thrown into the unholy soup that is the script for Space Jam: A New Legacy, writer Juel Taylor has made his directorial debut with one of the better Blaxploitation flips I’ve seen in a minute. Where remakes of the old guard like Shaft and Superfly felt the need to modernise the genre’s aesthetics (which only brought into question why they’d even bother getting involved in that genre in the first place), this actually sticks to its identifiable qualities, albeit with some updating on the cultural references like Obama and Bitcoin. The moody, shadowy cinematography from DP Ken Seng, the Terrace Martin-esque funk soundtrack from Desmond Murray and Pierre Charles (those basslines are just *chef’s kiss*), the frankly amazing costume design across the board; this looks really damn good.
The performances aren’t holding back either, especially from the main trio. John Boyega as dope boy Fontaine does fantastically as the entry-point character for what unravels into a pretty buckwild story, and when things take a turn for the existential, he gets into some old-school Death Row Records nihilism that gives the already-murky drama a real emotional punch. Jamie Foxx as pimp Slick Charles is the most fun the actor has been in quite a while, absolutely shining with every one-liner and aside he’s given to ensure that, no matter how strong the performers around him, he always steals the moment. As for Teyonah Parris as hooker Yo-Yo, she serves as the brains of the operation more times than not, and along with working nicely as part of the larger group dynamic, she also gives the darker moments a much-needed shot of hope to keep things level.
The narrative itself shares absurdist leanings with Jordan Peele, Sorry To Bother You, and even Undercover Brother, in its depiction of a Black neighbourhood being used as a scientific testing ground for all manner of mind control, mood control, thought control shit. While it starts out as a full-chested Blaxploitation revival, it quickly bobs and weaves through a lot of different genres, even getting into some proper conspiratorial thriller territory.
The commentary made about cultural control systems, where everything from food to crime to popular entertainment is engineered specifically to keep the populace docile and not in the mood to ask questions, hits home at every point, and the resulting reactions to their existence in-story (anger, fear, angst, defeat, complacency, etc.) can get particularly sobering at times. People being so disposable that they can quite literally be replaced, not knowing if it’s even possible to band together to fight this misery machine, and it all being done under some dipshit reasoning that homogenising everyone and creating ‘peace’ is the worthwhile goal.
From the writing to the presentation to the moods invoked by both, this is an incredibly nimble feature. It balances classic Blaxploitation visuals with a whip-smart story that deals in some depressingly relevant themes, managing to generate some solid laughs, contemplations, and more than a few moments of skin-crawling dread, and all without ever spinning out. This film originally get buried underneath the two-headed dragon of Barbenheimer, but hopefully, this will grow the legs to stick around in the conversation, because this kind of Black satire will never not be welcome around here.
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