ostensibly on its surface a stylish blaxploitation gangster movie about an undercover cop infiltrating the drug game in LA that instead of simply applying the usual men-on-opposite-sides-of-the-law moral contradictions morphs into a mean, existential neo-noir about the war on drugs itself as a self-perpetuating machine of blood and money and corrupt politics where black and brown misery is just another tool in maintaining wealth and power, and maybe overthrowing a latin american government or two. this deserves to be held in the same esteem as the other 90s gangster masterpieces like King of New York (god bojan) and Carlito's Way; goldblum and fishburne give two of their finest performances and bill duke directs the hell out of it. all kinds of insane wipes, jump cuts, dutch angles, expressive neon colors, feverish montages, etc; further layering it with a stylish atmosphere that is simultaneously a piece with its intense, righteous rage and mournful sensitivity. totally blown away by this

full discussion on episode 145 of my podcast SLEAZOIDS.