'Slam' Shows Faith in the Power of One

SLAM

Starring Saul Williams, Sonja Sohn

Directed by Marc Levin

Trimark Pictures

If Slam were a book instead of a film, it would read like a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle. Presenting an intricate web of ideas and issues, this story manages to tie them all together in a cohesive and inspiring structure. But it is the presentation of this story as a movie that makes it truly amazing. The many elements that make film a unique medium effectively extend this jigsaw puzzle into the fourth dimension.

As the story, on one level, of a gifted young black man's struggles on the streets and in the jails of Washington, D.C., the main piece of this puzzle is undoubtedly Raymond Joshua (played by Saul Williams) in his debut performance. Arrested for marijuana possession after his drug-dealing friend is shot by a rival gang, Ray is sent to prison. Inside he finds the gang lifestyle to be as fierce as it is on the streets, and there he comes to the realization that he wants out of the game. Released on bail while awaiting his trial, he wrestles with his feelings of anger and bitterness and fear for his future. Oh...and he falls in love. And he averts a gang war. And he launches his career as a freestyle/spoken-word poet.

If it all sounds complex, that's because it is. Or rather, Ray is a complex character--because he represents more than just one man's struggles. His are the problems of a people and of a nation, and this is what distinguishes the depth and importance of Slam. In the capital of a nation that abolished slavery more than 150 years ago, the black people of America still face problems and challenges which struggle to enslave them.

Only now, the question of responsibility is involved. Can a man be justified in selling drugs if he has to support his family in the projects? Is it a young man's right to strike back against an oppressive society...violently, if necessary? Who is to blame for the overpopulation of young black men in America's jails today? The streets? The police? The prisoners themselves?

There are no concrete answers to these questions, and Slam does not seek any. Rather, it strives to present these issues in a way that is accurate and unapologetic. It's not fair that Ray was born into a form of modern day slavery. It's not fair that children on the street look up to him as a successful drug dealer. It's not fair that he is incarcerated along with a major percentage of the young black men in Washington, D.C. The point that this film tries to drive home is that solutions to these problems require action, and action requires personal responsibility.

This responsibility is required of Ray, and it is his struggle that defines both his character and the film. Fortunately, he is helped in this struggle by Lauren Bell (played by Sonja Sohn, also a novice at film). A prison English teacher and poet herself, Laruen hears Ray perform while in jail, in a remarkable scene where he averts a gang fight by performing a poem he wrote which challenges the direction of their aggression towards each other. Once out on bail, Ray seeks her out, and they develop a relationship which, although slightly stretching the notion of love at first sight, plays a pivotal role in the developing of Ray into a man of responsibility.

One important piece to the puzzle of Slam which cannot be overlooked is the superb craftsmanship of director Marc Levin. A veteran of documentaries, Levin employed a cinema verite style in this feature, utilizing non-actors and improvisation and filming over 90 percent of the movie with hand-held cameras. These directorial choices succeed in imbuing the film with a feeling of gritty realism, especially in the numerous jail sequences which were, justly, shot in Washington, D.C.'s correctional facility (as debatable a term as that is). Levin's choice of DJ Spooky's music for the soundtrack only intensifies the haunting feeling of modern urban life, and his directing is similarly appropriate. Sohn shines in a number of scenes; she has a remarkable gift for seeming both powerful and fragile at the same time. And when she performs her own poem towards the end of the film, the effects are mesmerizing.

While Williams will probably not win any dramatic awards for his acting, in the context of this film, he does everything right. Due to the nature of the directing, we observe him more as a real person than an actor, and he commands an undeniable presence on the screen, whether freestyling with kids from the neighborhood or leading his blind friend down the street. More importantly, Williams is a phenomenally gifted poet; all of the lyrics he drops in this film are his own. Combining references from the Bible, the stars and Public Enemy (to name but three), he represents one of the major talents in spoken-word poetry today. Look to him for direction in the future evolution of hip-hop.

Slam is unreservedly recommended to anyone who wants to see how a great film can be made about a subject as complex as the struggle of modern African-Americans in an oppressive urban environment. The pieces to the puzzle of this problem are many and mated, but the finished product, a message of personal responsibility, is as clear as it is powerful.