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Eager rookie J.J. Johnson (Michael Boatman) is the only black officer in a Los Angeles sheriffs' substation. He soon comes up against ingrained racism, corruption, and violence on the force as he tries to fit in. A young black man (Ice Cube) is pulled in as a murder suspect after a wealthy man's wife is shot in a botched armed robbery. Boatman and Deputy Fields (Lori Petty) soon realize that the facts in the case don't add up and dig a bit deeper. They soon find a maze of deceit that extends upward from the sheriffs to L.A. city government. Though slow and rather convoluted, this film has an absorbing story worthy of Joseph Wambaugh and an interesting cast to hold viewers' attention. Blaxploitation vet Bernie Casey excels as Ice Cube's defense attorney, and Boatman is fine as the wide-eyed Johnson. Director Charles Burnett infuses a sense of dread and foreboding into sunny Los Angeles locations and well-lit convenience stores that turns the rules of dimly lit thrillers upside down. He also does a fair job of capturing the macho-cowboy mentality of the all-white sheriffs, complete with styled hair and heavy mustaches. Considering the timely subject matter, this film could have easily become heavy-handed cop opera, but the character development and performances are strong enough to lift it above the level of invective. After all, it's a scenario that's all too believable in light of late-1990s events.
--Jerry Renshaw
The writer-director Charles Burnett ("Killer of Sheep," "To Sleep with Anger") uses the cop-thriller form to make a moving and emotionally acute drama of self-knowledge. The hero, J. J. Johnson (Michael Boatman), is an eager, idealistic young cop assigned to an L.A. County Sheriff's station; he's the first black man ever to serve there. J.J. is caught in a no man's land: members of his own community look at him as if he were a traitor, and the angry white men he works with consider him an outsider. The movie's early scenes are dominated by Boatman's brilliant performance as a man who, in the attempt to be all things to all people, becomes a mystery to himself. Later, as J.J. begins to uncover evidence of corruption, the film's scope widens, but the director's lucid style never falters. In Burnett's hands, this story (which was inspired by the real-life experiences of a black deputy) dramatizes a simple and profoundly political idea: you can't know yourself until you know what you're a part of. In its quiet way, this is the most subversive American movie in years. Also with Lori Petty, Richard Anderson, Ice Cube, Bernie Casey, Michael Ironside, M. Emmet Walsh, and Elliott Gould. -Terrence Rafferty
Copyright © 2006
The New Yorker
