Starring: Trevor Jackson, Jason Mitchell, Michael K. Williams, Lex Scott Davis, Jennifer Morrison
Distributor: Sony Pictures
Runtime: 116 mins. Reviewed in Aug 2018
The “blaxploitation” genre came into being as a niche offering, targeted at black ethnic groups in America in the early 70s. These films wallowed in their excess, depicting gratuitous violence, nudity and drug use, entertainment filtered through a minority experience that often saw heroes clashing with police or other authority figures. Their soundtracks were regularly a highlight, featuring contributions from famous black musicians from the funk and soul movements. Despite gradually finding success with a wider audience, the blaxploitation genre never took root in the major studios and soon dried up (besides a few spoofs, like 2009’s ‘Black Dynamite’, though some elements have appeared in homages such as Tarantino’s ‘Jackie Brown’).
Until now. Sony Pictures, with the help of veteran genre producer Joel Silver and rapper-producer Future, has made ‘Superfly’, a remake of the 1972 blaxploitation classic ‘Super Fly’. It’s production values and cast are a cut above those of its generic predecessors, but its story follows the same, well-worn path of crime and sticking it to the system, and its style is as over-the-top as one would expect (or even hope, depending on where you stand on 70s throwbacks). The film has already been labelled “morally offensive” by Catholic critics in the US, but if you approach the film having made peace with its more questionable elements, you’ll find a surprisingly compelling character study beneath the objectionable but requisite genre trappings of violence, sex and narcotics.
Youngblood Priest (Trevor Jackson) is a young, successful cocaine dealer based in Atlanta. With his partner Eddie (Jason Mitchell, reliably strong), Priest has hustled on the streets since the age of 11, moving enough product to keep him and his girlfriend Georgia (Lex Scott Davis) in fabulous furs and jewels, fast cars and a sprawling home, but not so much as to attract the attention of the authorities. Priest has an encyclopaedic knowledge of his own operation and the players orbiting around it, using this information as leverage when necessary. Though the opening scene, in which Priest verbally disarms a pair of bodyguards using his intimate insights into their home lives, makes him appear to be a pacifist, he is also a gifted practitioner of jiu jitsu, a martial art taught to him by his mentor and supplier, Scatter (Michael K. Williams).
The film’s director, aptly credited as Director X (born Julien Christian Lutz), is a veteran of dozens of music videos, having made clips for a veritable who’s who of popular contemporary artists. Knowing some of his previous work, I honestly expected editor Ann-Carolin Biesenbach to be working overtime, but Director X makes a notable effort to generate energy through movement, colour and lighting rather than quick cutting. Priest’s introduction, for instance, is lensed through handsome reds and blues, courtesy of DP Amir Mokri, and the restraint suits the film’s smooth-talking hero.
The script’s rather generic “one last job” plot is kicked into gear when Priest narrowly avoids being shot by a member of a gang called Snow Patrol (who may or may not have been named for the Irish rock band of the same name). Shaken by his close brush with death, Priest decides that it’s time for him to get out of the game, though not before he and Eddie manage to squeeze out every drop of cash from Atlanta’s streets. To make this happen, he goes around Scatter, cutting out his middle man to link up directly with his contact in the Mexican cartels, Adalberto Gonzalez (Esai Morales).
Things heat up when a cadre of Snow Patrol members are killed in a drive by shooting. Although their imposing leader, Q (Big Bank Black), knows that this brutish hit isn’t Priest’s style, his brash 2IC Juju (Kaalan Walker) wants blood. As Juju tries to press Snow Patrol into a turf war, the police are also closing in around Priest, after corrupt detectives Mason (Jennifer Morrison, enjoyably villainous) and Franklin (Brian Durkin) find out about his lucrative operation.
In the lead, Trevor Jackson brings a subtlety and quiet edge that one would not have imagined reading the over-the-top role in Alex Tse’s sensationalised script. I have no doubt that there’s an alternate version of ‘Superfly’ starring a bad impression of Denzel Washington in ‘Training Day’, but this rendition is infinitely better for his presence. Jackson, a singer and actor with whom I was not familiar before seeing this film, carries himself with a real presence onscreen, conveying a quiet but dignified sense of self that emanates from his posture. He speaks quietly but demands that Priest be heard. A friend that attended the screening with me commented that Jackson had an uphill battle making audiences root for a character that sported Priest’s ridiculously coiffed hair-do, but that’s exactly what he manages to do.
The film’s preoccupation with religion goes beyond the family name of its protagonist; members of the villainous Snow Patrol sport crosses tattooed between their eyes, while many of its characters talk about God and his importance in their lives. Of course, their actions rarely correspond with the teachings of any religion, but it’s rare and even a little exciting to see such an overt acknowledgement of faith in a mainstream film about drug dealing gangsters.
When it shoehorns in its genre-appeasing gunfights, coke snorting and nudity, ‘Superfly’ does so almost sheepishly, and for suitable, knowing audiences, these segments should fall into the so-bad-it’s-good category. When it leans into its intriguing lead and Jackson’s strong performance, it becomes a surprisingly persuasive drama about one man’s quest to attain the American Dream at any cost. Flitting between these poles, then, ‘Superfly’ flies straight into the guilty pleasure category, albeit one for mature audiences. Who says that crime doesn’t pay?
Callum Ryan is an associate of the Australian Catholic Office for Film & Broadcasting.
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