Urban

Boyz 'N the Hood

John Singleton, at the age of 23, was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay for his debut film, Boyz N the Hood. The film stars Laurence Fishburne, Angela Basset, Ice Cube, and Academy Award-winning actor Cuba Gooding Jr. in his first starring role in a feature film. Gooding plays Tre Styles, a teenager growing up in South Central Los Angeles. His father, Furious (Fishburne), is divorced and living away from Tre and his mother (Basset), but he's still involved in Tre's upbringing, teaching him the values of right and wrong and responsibility. Meanwhile, Tre's childhood buddies Ricky (Morris Chestnut) and Doughboy (Ice Cube) are living their lives in terms of the epidemic of violence and poverty that has plagued their neighborhood. Ricky, a talented football player, strives to get a full athletic scholarship to college. If only his SAT scores were higher. Doughboy lives a life full of crime but still remains true to his friends. The obstacles that these three young men come across result in dire consequences, devastatingly avoidable and inevitable at the same time. Boyz N the Hood is a landmark film beyond its commercial success, presenting a portrait of South Central in the late '80s and early '90s as painted by Singleton (who grew up in that neighborhood), achieving accuracy and dramatic resonance in this story of at-risk youth. --Shannon Gee

Bad Boys (Special Edition)

Slick to a fault, this glossy action flick takes place in sunny Florida, where Martin Lawrence and Will Smith play two cops--one married with kids, the other a swinging bachelor. The two are forced to trade places to foil criminal mastermind Fouchet (Tchéky Karyo) who has stolen $100 million worth of heroin from a police lockup. Violent, illogical, and filled with wall-to-wall profanity, Bad Boys was the last film produced by the hit-making team of Don Simpson and Jerry Bruckheimer before Simpson's untimely death, and marked the directorial debut of Michael Bay who followed up with The Rock. Bad Boys will be of interest to action buffs and fans of Téa Leoni, who makes one of her early screen appearances in the central supporting role. --Jeff Shannon

Baby Boy

A worthy companion piece to 1991's Boyz N the Hood, John Singleton's Baby Boy expresses compassionate but unforgiving criticism of young, African American black men who lead reckless, irresponsible lives while blithely blaming racism for their chronic disadvantage. That's already enough to make this a provocative and emotionally challenging film, but Singleton injects his drama with such passionate vitality that it never seems inflammatory; instead, in presenting this portrait of a confused and conflicted 20-year-old black man named Jody (Tyrese Gibson), Singleton is both affectionate and accusatory, lending Baby Boy an edgy, timeless wisdom that other, less courageous films could never hope to offer.

Unemployed and living with his 36-year-old mother (A.J. Johnson), Jody has fathered children from two young mothers and seems destined for an early grave. He never knew his father, but his mother's new boyfriend Melvin (played to perfection by Ving Rhames) is an ex-con with streetwise maturity that Jody, in time, will come to recognize and respect. This generational dynamic is the lifeblood of Singleton's central theme; Jody can follow Melvin's example or fall into the trap of lawlessness personified by Rodney (Snoop Dogg), a violent gangsta who arrives to threaten Jody's tenuous chance at a respectable adulthood. Through a wealth of fine performances and blistering dialogue, Baby Boy presents hard questions with no easy answers, and although Singleton is prone to polemical melodrama, his blunt approach serves a noble and ultimately hopeful purpose. --Jeff Shannon

Poetic Justice

Director John Singleton (Boyz N the Hood, Rosewood) made an earnest effort in this, his second, film to say a great deal that is true and relevant about living and loving in a violent, difficult time in American history. Janet Jackson plays a beautician and poet who withdraws into herself after her boyfriend is murdered by gangsters. The late Tupac Shakur plays a postman who tries to get through to her, and the two travel on a course through urban America, connecting with family and community. Singleton has so much on his mind that the film comes out a terrible muddle, but there is a certain integrity peeking through the fog. Shakur makes a startlingly good impression in his film debut, and Jackson strips away her star veneer to play something like a real person--and entirely succeeds. Maya Angelou wrote the poems that pass as those penned by Jackson's character, and she also appears in the film. --Tom Keogh

Higher Learning

This ambitious 1995 film by John Singleton (Boyz N the Hood) doesn't quite succeed at painting the illuminating, collective portrait of college life in the '90s that the director seeks. But Singleton does do a fine job of defining some conflicting impulses for young people on the cusp of adulthood, particularly the desire to broaden horizons on the one hand and circle the wagons with like-minded allies on the other. Students in the film's Columbus University divide themselves along lines of race, sexual preferences, ideology, and, most dangerously, levels of paranoia. Among the fine cast is Michael Rapaport, who portrays a loner drawn to a local community of neo-Nazis. His resultant problems with the school's African-Americans takes over the story at the expense of other, parallel dramas, but Singleton's insights into race hatred on campus--a microcosm of the surrounding culture--is not to be dismissed. --Tom Keogh

The Brothers

Think of it as a male version of Waiting to Exhale. The Brothers similarly features four good friends who offer each other advice and support as they navigate the strange and treacherous waters of romantic relationships. Jackson (Morris Chestnut) is a doctor with serious commitment problems; he has dreams about a woman in a bridal gown aiming a gun at him. Brian (Bill Bellamy) is a lawyer with a caustic view of the opposite sex, inspired in large part by his untrusting and unaffectionate mother; he also has commitment problems. Upwardly mobile professional Terry (Shemar Moore) is a well-muscled womanizer who's finally decided to settle down, but as the wedding draws close it becomes clear that he, too, has commitment problems. Fortunately, the fourth member of the quartet, Derrick (D.L. Hughley), is married and devoted to his family--except that his wife refuses to engage in anything but straight missionary sex, which Derrick sees as manipulative. The Brothers depicts a glamorous world in which everyone is good-looking and well dressed; the number of characters makes it hard to delve into anyone's life with any depth, but the actors are engaging and the script makes an effort to look at the "battle of the sexes" from both sides. The immensely charming Gabrielle Union (from Bring It On) plays the girl who just might convince Jackson to give up his single ways. --Bret Fetzer

Blue Streak

Martin Lawrence can certainly talk a blue streak (witness his concert film, You So Crazy), but he tones it down to PG-13 for this by-the-book action comedy. Lawrence stars as Logan, a bank robber and jewel thief (nice role model we're supposed to cheer for) who, just before he is arrested, manages to stash the $20 million diamond he has just heisted at a construction site. When he is released from prison two years later, he returns to the scene of the crime only to find that the completed building houses a police station. To get inside and retrieve the precious gem he secures a fake ID and passes himself off as LAPD's newest, and most unorthodox, detective. As he demonstrated on his TV series, Lawrence has a knack for characterization second to Eddie Murphy. But he's no Beverly Hills Cop. Indulgent sequences where Martin has seemingly been given free reign to ad-lib are the film's weakest. Early on, Logan cases the police station outlandishly disguised as a snaggle-toothed, Geri-curled pizza deliveryman. You'd think the last thing his character would want to do is call attention to himself. Lawrence is at his best in the scenes in which, thanks to all those years of breaking and entering, his formerly lawless character proves to be a natural at cracking burglary cases. Logan is paired with the requisite white partner, Carlson (Luke Wilson), a buttoned-up rookie. Departing from the Lethal Weapon, buddy-movie playbook, they are not antagonists; theirs is more a teacher-mentor relationship. "Don't we need a warrant to do that?" Carlson asks Logan at one point. "We don't even need a key," Logan responds, picking a lock. There is little in Blue that is remotely fresh, but Lawrence fans, who watched him play it straight opposite Murphy in Life, will relish the opportunity to see him get down with his bad self. --Donald Liebenson

Two Can Play That Game

In reducing the rules of romance to a 10-day plan for repairing a breakup, Two Can Play That Game tickles a few funny bones while "keepin' it real" about heartbreak and human behavior. Our hostess through this marathon of head games is 28-year-old Shanté (Vivica A. Fox--emphasis on the fox), who speaks to the camera so much that critic Roger Ebert nicknamed this movie "Waiting to Inhale." In a film packed with positive stereotypes (no crack-smoking gangstas here, thank you), she's a successful marketing executive, and her straying boyfriend is a high-profile attorney (Morris Chestnut). Their turbulent romance survives Shanté's 10-day power play, but not all viewers will be so lucky, since this movie is alternately charming and aggravating, and there's precious little romance while the lovers are plotting their moves. Still, it's a safe bet that many people will appreciate this movie's endearing lesson--namely, that sincere groveling can save you lots of time and heartache. --Jeff Shannon

School Daze

Spike Lee's follow-up to his unlikely hit She's Gotta Have It was this ambitious--some would say too ambitious--attempt at a musical about college life. But Lee, ever the provocateur, doesn't settle for a simple college comedy. Rather, he wants to make a point about the social divisions within all-black colleges: between the socializers and the socially conscious, and between light and dark-skinned blacks. Laurence Fishburne plays a politically aware student trying to bring his fellow students together; Giancarlo Esposito plays the fraternity boss who constantly seeks to insert a wedge between the haves and have-nots. Lee himself plays a pawn in the middle, a would-be frat boy undergoing a wicked Hell Week as a pledge. The story doesn't pull together and the musical numbers--more spoof than anything else--only serve to fragment it. While it offers interesting points, it never does so in a particularly cohesive way. --Marshall Fine

Ghosts of Mars (Special Edition)

Ghosts of Mars may not be one of John Carpenter's finer efforts, but you can't knock the veteran director for staying true to his roots--it's clearly a Carpenter film, reveling in its B-movie blood lust, and fueled by the director's rock & roll rebellion as well as the sex appeal of star Natasha Henstridge. This rickety sci-fi/horror hybrid recalls Carpenter's Assault on Precinct 13, with various connections from throughout the director's career--for better and worse. It's the year 2176, and human colonists on Mars are controlled by a political "matronage," with women (for reasons unexplained) holding court in the capitol city of Chryse. Mars Police Force Lt. Ballard (Henstridge) has been sent to retrieve James "Desolation" Williams (Ice Cube), the planet's most notorious criminal, from a remote mining-colony prison. With her ill-fated crew, Ballard discovers that the colonists have nearly all been possessed by ancient Martian spirits bent on reclaiming the planet, turning them into an army of self-mutilating freaks suggesting an unholy union of Marilyn Manson and the sadomasochistic Cenobites from the Hellraiser films. None of this makes much sense, and the shaky alliance between cops and criminals is a predictable excuse for rampant battle scenes between surviving humans and the ghost-possessed maniacs. Exotic weaponry abounds (along with cheap special effects and some laughable dialogue), resulting in the gruesome dispatch of expendable costars Pam Grier, Joanna Cassidy, Robert Carradine, and Clea Duvall. Driven by Carpenter's synth-metal score, this violent free-for-all has a few brief highlights, but it's suspenseless and ultimately absurd. It's not much, but for loyal fans it's probably enough. --Jeff Shannon