Ace Jackson is a Dead Man

ACE JACKSON poster“By the time you notice the water is boiling, you’re already cooked.”

Sean Weathers is a Guyanese born, Brooklyn-based filmmaker/auteur who has written, directed and produced films with titles such as They All Must Die!, Hookers in Revolt, Maniac Too!, Mandingo Sex Addict and Scumbag Hustler.

With monikers such as those plus the DIY nature of his films, it’s hard not to admire the man. His newest opus, Ace Jackson is a Dead Man has Weathers playing the titular character: a very small-time pimp and hustler wannabe who’s tired of being small. He accepts a substantial amount of cocaine from Bigelow, a Jay-Z type who runs the neighborhood. Bigelow, or Mr. Biggs, makes it no secret that he disdains Ace and only took him on as a favor to Ace’s cousin, Baxter. Biggs wants his money by Wednesday.

Ace visits his girl Chelsea, who like Biggs, doesn’t seem to respect Ace very much. Her tune changes, however, when she sees the drugs. So Ace goes to the streets, sells the coke, gives Bigelow the money, and all is well. If only. Ace leaves the weight at Chelsea’s to go see another girl. When he returns, Chelsea is gone and so are the drugs. To say Ace is fucked is an understatement, but unfortunately, so is poor Baxter if Ace doesn’t cough up the cash on time.

The plot of Ace Jackson is somewhat conventional but the style is not. The film has a cinema verité feel and is shot in stark black and white, reminiscent of early-Jim Jarmusch, a la Stranger than Paradise. Furthermore, Weathers underscores his modern take on Blaxploitation with vintage jazz and blues tunes by the likes of Leadbelly and Kansas Joe McCoy. The cinematography and unconventional choice of music gives the film a strange, timeless feel which contrasts sharply with the images on display (twerking, banging, beating, snorting coke off a hooker’s heiney.)

Ace_JacksonOther choices don’t work so well. The film is punctuated with text crawls regarding the huge economic disparity between the haves and the have-nots in American society as well as the unfair practices of corporate behemoths. Weathers, I assume, is trying to correlate the micro with the macro. It’s noble, but it doesn’t quite work in the context of the film. Furthermore, the film is punctuated with extremely gruesome insert shots of genuine corpses. It seems Weathers is trying to make another statement in doing so, rather than just including gruesome inserts for the sake of exploitation, but it’s difficult to discern just what type of statement that is.

Now on to the sex. The film contains a number of extremely raw sex scenes, which according to the director’s website, are not simulated. So be warned.

Ultimately, Ace Jackson is a Dead Man is a film that is decidedly not for everyone. It’s ultra low-budget and the inserts and sex could turn off many a viewer. Nonetheless, the film is undeniably the work of someone with a unique voice and a tremendous amount of talent and potential. It’ll be interesting to see where Weather’s career takes him next.

*** (out of five)

Champs

Champs“If you forgive, you have peace.” This sentiment seems incongruous coming out of Evander Holyfield’s mouth about Mike Tyson, the man who nearly bit his ear off.

But forgive he did. And Champs is an at times unforgiving boxing doc, with cover art that shows the sport’s precarious position on the sporting landscape; it seems like the fighter’s almost quit on his stool.

Floyd Mayweather’s clinical dismantling of Manny Pacquiao (this reviewer had it 10 rounds to 2 and would grudgingly concede perhaps a third to Pacman) disappointed many in that, the so-called Fight of the Century. It was an event that many hoped would rekindle interest in a sport burning its last embers.

While that spectacle did not, Champs just might. And it couldn’t come at a better time.

The sport’s current incarnation is a whale carcass being picked at by sharks. It ignored UFC’s bites, failed to develop a cohesive commission/titles and its bread and butter — the heavyweight division — became a dog’s breakfast of consonant-heavy Slavic nobodies.

Bernard_Hopkins_Champs wisely focuses on three of the sport’s foremost practitioners and most compelling personalities, the aforementioned Evander, “Iron” Mike Tyson and the “ageless warrior” Bernard “The Executioner” Hopkins (pictured), Philly’s fighting pride and former state pen champ.

They recount their rise from nothing to everything, with comments from ringside staples like Denzel Washington, Mark Whalberg, boxing insiders like Lou DiBella and “Irish” Micky Ward to a slew of talking heads who look like they’ve never thrown a punch in their lives.

It’s fascinating to see how time has mellowed these champs, these hard men…and the casual observer and die-hard fan alike will benefit from hearing Hopkins’ insights into the sport (this as he prepares for perhaps a coda fight at the age of 50).

It might be tough to make a case for a sport that brain-injures 90% of its participants, (according to stats provided by doc-maker Bert Marcus) but Champs does it with aplomb and makes viewers question preconceptions.

Other sports have teammates, leagues, unions (players’ associations) and other levels of protection. Boxers face the peril all alone.

It might be too little too late, but establishing a unified commission on the heels of its recent TV deal, might put the sweet science back in the public’s consciousness — a place it definitely belongs.

***1/2 (out of 5)