The film's credibility and the audience's grasp on consciousness fall apart at the seams from the very beginning. The movie opens with a lengthy introductory scene that follows Brenda Martin, played by Moore, as she shuffles through the Armstrong Houses, Dempsy's friendly neighborhood ghetto, to the local hospital.
Upon the arrival of Detective Lorenzo Council, played by Samuel L. Jackson, Brenda recounts how she was carjacked on her way home from the projects. Delivered in a painfully halting manner, her monologue, dripping with snot and emotion, leaves both Detective Council and audience unimpressed and highly skeptical.
As if sensing the audience's disgust, Brenda throws in a "shocking" twist; her four-year-old child was asleep in the car at the time! The excitement is apparently too much for Detective Lorenzo as he suffers a sudden asthma attack. For the next five minutes, the camera shakes and shifts from Lorenzo to Brenda in a nauseating fashion as they yell incoherently at each other.
All the while, poor Lorenzo sucks on a depleted inhaler, cursing a blue streak. The scene climaxes with a shot … of adrenaline for Lorenzo and his poor lungs. Enter Brenda's brother, Danny Martin (Ron Eldard), your stereotypical racist cop. Upon being debriefed on the situation, Danny storms out of the hospital, apparently in the mood for a lynching.
Satisfied with the commotion that she's created, Brenda has an extended hallucination and proceeds to collapse to the floor, taking any audience members who hadn't yet succumbed to the movie's soundtrack of nondescript songs and muffled noises with her.
In the meantime, the Dempsy Police inexplicably decide to quarantine the Armstrong Houses and residents, apparently motivated by a desire to incite a small racial war. For the next hour, the film follows Detective Council and his search for the truth as he jumps erratically from location to location, torn between locating the missing child and protecting the residents of the projects from police intrusion and brutality. The plot continues to fall apart as the movie splits its focus unequally between the broiling undercurrent of racial tension and the interaction between Lorenzo and Brenda.
Herein lies the fundamental flaw of the film. Despite having been advertised as a suspense-packed search for the truth in the midst of racial violence, the movie is, in reality, nearly two hours of back-to-back monologues. The issue of racial relations is given mere lip service with a few scenes of white-on-black police action and a muted riot for a finale. This racial subplot feels contrived and forced as characters are introduced for no other purpose than to escalate the inevitable conflict. The entire affair lacks any sense of nuance and subtlety, as the only driving force is a slew of blatant racial epithets and violence.
Similarly, many of the characters seem rather insubstantial and shallow. Jackson's detective is uncompelling and lacks any sense of focus. A child of the projects, Lorenzo shows, as expected, a great deal of interest in the escalating violence against the residents of the Armstrong Houses. However, this interest is reflected neither in his speech nor in his actions. Offering only a few sound bites in response to questions directed to him regarding the situation, Lorenzo drifts from scene to scene, accomplishing very little in alleviating growing strife or solving the mystery.
At the same time, he exhibits a misplaced and inexplicable sympathy for Brenda, the source of all his and the community's woes. His feelings are particularly irrational in light of the fact that he continually expresses misgivings about her story throughout the entire course of the movie.
Yet, despite these failures, the movie would have been salvageable were it not for the atrocious acting on the part of Moore. Apparently given carte blanche in her portrayal of a grieving mother and former drug addict, Moore opens the proverbial floodgates, drowning both credibility and coherence with her tears. Every word out of her mouth is accompanied by a mournful wail and a gush of tears.
Each monologue is akin to the baying a wolf in heat. At the same time, Moore is given to sudden and constant bouts weakness and fits. If she isn't flopping about like a fish out of water, one is apt to find her draped over the most convenient piece of furniture. Coupled with a ridiculous accent, Moore's grating performance is over-the-top and liable to send viewers over the edge.
With its dubious plot, shaky camerawork and horrific acting, this movie is definitely not for the emotionally unstable. Do, however, watch out for stampedes throughout the U.S. as audiences bite and claw their way to the exits and freedom.