A rasta musician meets a gospel singer when they both enter a music contest in Kingston Jamaic. They fall for each other but are kept apart by the Girl's father the Pastor, who wants her to marry into the church.
Carl has travelled from Yorkshire to central London to clear up the details of his brothers death. Although a successful attorney Carl finds that there is another side to his brothers life, which he willingly gets pulled into. A group of techno junkies accept him into their family, as he is the brother of their late friend. With copious MDA to aide him Carl enters the underground all-night rave scene in hopes of discovering the truth to his brothers suspicious death. Written by
Who am I, a meagre spectator and wannabe film critic, to suggest how this film could have been better? No one really, but given this film's promising premise, it is quite frustrating that the ultimate result is so full of avoidable flaws.
What this film could have been was an exploration of our capital's club and drug culture with the classical narrative of a detective movie. In this scenario, we happily discover, through the investigations of our central character, exactly what circumstances led to the sinister happenings at the film's outset.
Alas though, this does not happen. We start to find things out that our detective does not know, thus dispelling the sense of mystery that was (well) established earlier.
This frustration, added to the unfathomable casting and actual existence of the Tim Curry character, ultimately makes the film almost a chore to watch. How did this guy ever become an actor? His mere presence makes the skin crawl and his acting style redefines the word hammy.
Our hero also starts to make some strange and uncharacteristic decisions, like taking drugs with a woman he does not trust and immersing himself in the culture of which he knows his unfortunate brother was a victim.
Attempts at quirkiness, which are so typical of recent British fare, also fall flat and miss the tone of the film. Namely, the femme-fetale calling our hero by the name of his home town Scunthorpe throughout, and a martial arts "expert" inspired by the Streetfighter video games.
Whack on a farcical James Bond style ending and what you've got is a complete bodged job of a movie - a great shame when you consider what it might have been.
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