Menace II America

*** Crips and Bloods: Made in America

The opening claim in the film is startling: the long-running feud between the Crips and Bloods has claimed five times as many lives as the sectarian conflict in northern Ireland. It may seem absurd to think that gang violence could be on par with civil war, but when one considers the history of unrest and turmoil that's devastated the lives and communities of African-Americans in South L.A., the comparison doesn't appear as far fetched as it seems. Over the course of forty years, almost 19,000 lives were lost because of gang-related rivalry and violence.

Narrated by Forrest Whittaker, Crips and Bloods: Made in America examines the sociological and historical roots of gang violence in South L.A. The film traces back to the period after the Civil War when African-Americans began migrating from the South to urban, industrialized areas like Chicago, Detroit and Los Angeles. Their supposed freedom from oppression wound up being short-lived; in the cities, too, blacks were discriminated from equal opportunities and were subject to racial segregation. Sustained periods of tension and hostility in these cities, particularly in L.A., boiled over into some of the most historically notorious riots and simultaneously sparked gang culture among young black men. Begotten from racial bigotry and hatred ("made in America"), gangs gave blacks an outlet for their frustration and anger and instilled in them a sense of empowerment they felt was lacking in the non-violent civil rights movement. "Everyday [we're] being fed with a spoonful of hatred," Kumasi, a founding gang member, reminisces. "It's just a question of when is this going to erupt."

Some of the highlights of this documentary come from interviews with former and current gang members. Their sharp and introspective commentaries offer harrowing accounts of gang life and create a vivid picture of survival in an urban jungle. One of the more heartrending scenes in the film shows mothers silently grieving over their deceased sons, most of whom didn't live past the age of 20. The devastating ramifications of having entire generations of black males either incarcerated or dying at an early age is conveyed powerfully through the testimonies of victims who have lost either a friend, brother, father or son to gang violence.

At times, however, Crips and Bloods is too sprawling and loses focus on its subject matter (the rise of the Crips isn't brought up until thirty minutes into the film). Clocking in at just barely an hour and a half, the film tries to cover too much ground in too little time. It would've been preferable to hear from some of the more fascinating interviewees, among them a former gang member who left his crew for the sake of raising his children. Despite its shortcomings though, the documentary is visually rich and stirring and a good introduction to gang history and culture.

(One final note: the opening shot of the film is, for lack of a better word, awesome. An upside-down skyline of downtown Los Angeles, seemingly suspended in the air. The camera slowly pans up, hovers through South Central and then settles on a long shot of a hazy horizon. It's dizzying, disorienting and awesome. Definitely a submission into any Best Opening Shot category).

Are you waving the flag at me?

***** Pickup on South Street (1953)

Now this is noir. Moral ambiguity, not-so-subtle sexual overtones, and a prevailing cynicism shared among fraught characters struggling to make ends meet in a bleak world. If you're new to the genre, Double Indemnity is where to start but you should definitely pick up Pickup on South Street (corny pun, I know, but I couldn't resist) because it's a real gem that belongs in any canon of great film noir.

I didn't quite know what to expect of this film. I read a little about Sam Fuller beforehand and decided to watch this film because it came highly recommended by a friend. After the first four minutes I knew I was watching something special - no dialogue is spoken, but each shot is so perfectly constructed in the opening scene that it sets the plot in motion regardless. "Don't talk about it," Sam Fuller once said in an interview. "Show it. Two words." Strong words of advice, and especially true because film is a visual medium. Everything you need to know about screen left, screen right, eyeline matching, closeups, wide angles and panning can be discovered in the opening scene.



Set during the peak of the Red Scare, the story centers on Skip McCoy (Richard Widmark), a lowly pickpocket who unwittingly steals a piece of film that is vital to both federal and Communist agents. Though he's harassed by local authorities to turn the film over (and in doing so, turn himself over to a life sentence in prison), he remains unfazed and coolly thumbs his nose at his persecutors. When one agent challenges McCoy's sense of loyalty and patriotism, McCoy snarls back, "Are you waving the flag at me?" Even before I watched Fuller's interview I was startled by the gutsy line, given its context.



It takes some major cojones to make a movie in the 1950s about a thief who's largely indifferent to his country's fervid struggle against the evils of Communism. The only sympathetic (pathetic is more like it) character in the film is an informant named Moe (Thelma Ritter) who tries to sell enough handmade ties and police information so she can buy a tombstone and plot of land for her grave. Morbid, yes, but it's completely distinctive of the tone of hopelessness and despair that is prevalent in film noir. The scene where she laments about her lonesome and wearied life is especially touching and reminiscent of the time in Hollywood when great character actors lit up the screen.

There are other treasures in Sam Fuller's filmography that I've yet to discover and Pickup on South Street is definitely a classic. A must see for anyone who loves noir.