Beatty also can't bring himself to carry his vision of inner city African-American life to its bitter conclusion. He waxes sentimental over Huey Newton and asks where all the black leaders have gone. As a director, Beatty has made some very handsome films, but he's never really learned the craft of pacing, rhythm and story construction. The direction, at times, suggests someone trying to ape the lifelike bustle of Robert Altman's films without any of Altman's technique. He's using that to suggest the weariness of a man who's been worrying about the same problems for years only to see them get worse.
Some filmmakers distill their craft to the essence of what they want to express.
That line intimates the corrosive spirit of this film, and how, despite its clumsiness, it picks away at your brain. I left the theater thinking Beatty would do better to run for office than to get behind the camera again. Charles Taylor is a regular contributor to Salon. All rights reserved.