And would've been shot along with everybody else, so I didn't have to watch this piece of crap. Two words--Brian Bosworth. Mother of God.
Plodding, disjointed story (although it was amusing when one batch of guys shows up to steal guns and another group shows up to steal drugs... talk about a tense social situation...), the entire premise of the story seems pretty stupid... why wouldn't the cops level the place and kill the bad guy--I mean, other than the fact that they aren't the LAPD? They arrest him after he is responsible for the death of a dozen people, then he gets released to a guy that simply flashes a badge at the police department with no explanation, no paperwork, no escort... yeah, that happens every day, suspected mass murderers are released and no one even looks askance... and they walk out, side by side, the guy's not even in cuffs, and no one bats an eye...? Don't the newspapers notice that the guy that just murdered a bunch of people suddenly disappeared? Then he's turned loose by the guy to go back to his drug dealing, and all his buddies gather 'round... no one seems to think it's a little odd that he just killed a half dozen people and is back on the street a couple days later--apparently they're all too stupid to have it dawn on them that the guy is a snitch, or rolled over on someone. And how likely is an FBI agent walking around in a suit with hair to his shoulders and two rings in his nose--at headquarters? He looked like he was doing an emaciated Fabio impersonation. The guy looks ridiculous, and his cronies at the FBI are just as absurd. A little credibility could've been lent to them if they didn't look like some kind of lame-ass caricatures of exiles from Miami Vice, but apparently the director didn't think so. What cop would look at this guy and think he wasn't crooked? Nice low profile, dude. Then there's the scene where, in broad daylight, a white kid shoots a ten year old black kid on the streets of Los Angeles for his shoes. We all know how many surfer wannabe gangsters there are in L.A. carrying guns, shooting other kids for their shoes. The shooter looks about twelve. Puh-leez. No one bats an eye. Cars drive by, it's just business as usual in L.A. I guess, no one even looks when a dead kid is laying on a busy street next to a four lane downtown street at noon. And why does a tattoo artist (in a very upscale tat parlor that looks like it should be in Malibu at a fashion mall) have a baseball bat to pull out of nowhere and start swinging at the hero? Then there's writing, in huge red felt pen letters on your desk calendar at the FBI office "KILL MARCUS." I guess that's just in case he forgets to kill Marcus. "I knew there was something I was supposed to do today..." **glances down** "OH YEAH!! I need to KILL MARCUS! I almost forgot!" Don't waste your time on this piece of crap, it'd be better spent doing something more enjoyable, like repeatedly burning yourself on the ass with a lit cigar.
Plodding, disjointed story (although it was amusing when one batch of guys shows up to steal guns and another group shows up to steal drugs... talk about a tense social situation...), the entire premise of the story seems pretty stupid... why wouldn't the cops level the place and kill the bad guy--I mean, other than the fact that they aren't the LAPD? They arrest him after he is responsible for the death of a dozen people, then he gets released to a guy that simply flashes a badge at the police department with no explanation, no paperwork, no escort... yeah, that happens every day, suspected mass murderers are released and no one even looks askance... and they walk out, side by side, the guy's not even in cuffs, and no one bats an eye...? Don't the newspapers notice that the guy that just murdered a bunch of people suddenly disappeared? Then he's turned loose by the guy to go back to his drug dealing, and all his buddies gather 'round... no one seems to think it's a little odd that he just killed a half dozen people and is back on the street a couple days later--apparently they're all too stupid to have it dawn on them that the guy is a snitch, or rolled over on someone. And how likely is an FBI agent walking around in a suit with hair to his shoulders and two rings in his nose--at headquarters? He looked like he was doing an emaciated Fabio impersonation. The guy looks ridiculous, and his cronies at the FBI are just as absurd. A little credibility could've been lent to them if they didn't look like some kind of lame-ass caricatures of exiles from Miami Vice, but apparently the director didn't think so. What cop would look at this guy and think he wasn't crooked? Nice low profile, dude. Then there's the scene where, in broad daylight, a white kid shoots a ten year old black kid on the streets of Los Angeles for his shoes. We all know how many surfer wannabe gangsters there are in L.A. carrying guns, shooting other kids for their shoes. The shooter looks about twelve. Puh-leez. No one bats an eye. Cars drive by, it's just business as usual in L.A. I guess, no one even looks when a dead kid is laying on a busy street next to a four lane downtown street at noon. And why does a tattoo artist (in a very upscale tat parlor that looks like it should be in Malibu at a fashion mall) have a baseball bat to pull out of nowhere and start swinging at the hero? Then there's writing, in huge red felt pen letters on your desk calendar at the FBI office "KILL MARCUS." I guess that's just in case he forgets to kill Marcus. "I knew there was something I was supposed to do today..." **glances down** "OH YEAH!! I need to KILL MARCUS! I almost forgot!" Don't waste your time on this piece of crap, it'd be better spent doing something more enjoyable, like repeatedly burning yourself on the ass with a lit cigar.