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Siegel plays a local criminal who, after a thug epiphany of sorts at a topless bar, wipes out legions of drug dealers in an effort to carve out turf. There are stockpiles of men willing to do his bidding while he watches on in his neon-colored swish-swish outfit, pawing at a fence like some caged animal -yes, I'm not kidding, Siegel paws - as a mass execution goes down on a basketball court. To show he is some kind of leader, Siegel occasionally spits out obvious truisms; to show he has a trace of humanity, the movie trots a girlfriend and child across the screen, the idea being if you have them, you must be something less than a total bogeyman, although such accoutrements didn't excuse Stalin, or Saddam.
Because "State Property" cannot possibly condone this behavior for an entire movie, Siegel eventually matches up against an equal armed foe and the fate that's predetermined for a straight-away lunatic like him.
Unlike Hype Williams' "Belly," which very much wanted to have a message but buried it under the pyrotechnics of cars, girls and jewelry needed to pull young black audiences into the theaters, "State Property" has no aspirations beyond being hard and cold. Directed by Tron Anderson and produced by Siegel's music producer, Damon Dash, the movie is borne out of an appalling, but unsurprising, ignorance of what makes a life worth living. There is no hope, just a few fleeting moments of material wealth, booties and gun-toting power trips.
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