I can think of worse way to spend my days than with twelve-hour jackoff sessions. As it is, I'm shot five minutes after waking up and then spend half the day in a self-loathing stupor. Tantra has nothing to do with Traffic , Steven Soderbergh's latest flick that is getting a lot of hype. I'm not really sure why. It's a frequently good movie, eventually sinking under too much preaching and too many government statistics.
Traffic weaves four stories about the trafficking of drugs between the U.S. and Mexico.
The wonderful Luis Guzman and Don Cheadle are two DEA agents protecting ratfink Miguel Ferrer, who tattled on Jones's husband, Steven Bauer. Del Toro learns that his Mexican boss is joining forces with Douglas to stop the Tijuana drug cartel, but his boss isn't doing it to win the war. He's doing it to help another cartel he's in the pocket of. In the U.S., the Tijuana drugs go through Ferrer, who works for Bauer, and Guzman and Cheadle try to keep him from getting killed before he can testify. Jones goes from being completely unaware of her husband's business to ruthlessly running it in an effort to maintain her swank-uluxe lifestyle.