Artfully presented and blunt in its social critique, there is something deliciously honest about the undercover cop film, this being an ideal example of no-bullshit brio, starring "Larry" Fishburne as a dour L.A. agent who goes undercover to take down a Colombian drug syndicate. When he was a boy, Fishburne witnessed his father gunned down in a bungled liquor store bust; as an adult, he abstains from alcohol and drugs, and wears an impassive mien to keep the world at a safe distance. He's rigid, uncompromising, resentful of authority—he's the perfect mole, as his boss says (a squirrelly, race-baiting Charles Martin Smith), "because he fits the profile of a criminal."
Once under, the plot provocatively centers on the agonizing moral compromises Fishburne must make and his realization that right and wrong is relative to the power of the almighty dollar. Deeply cynical about the government's purported "War on Drugs"—at one point even implicating the president by name—the film sees it as just another white power structure profiting from, and fueling, a largely minority industry; honest cops and citizens pay the price for this malfeasance, an imbalance Fishburne eventually exploits with aplomb. But as much as it takes authoritarian corruption for granted, Deep Cover's attitude toward interracial sexual relations is at once fresh and unpretentious: As Jeff Goldblum's sleazy lawyer emerges from a black mistress's apartment quipping to Fishburne about the allure of exotic flesh, the film both confirms and renders ridiculous the sexual legend that, furtively, white men desire black women (and vice-versa). Instead of giggling around the issue, the film promotes this coupling as a reality, thereby reveling in the adolescent quest for exoticism and proving it a ridiculous affectation; in other words, "Get off your ass, white boy. It's no big deal." Deep Cover is also a showcase for Fishburne to prove his mettle as a leading man. He's consistently captivating, evincing the inner torment, sensitivity, and moral indecision so rare for protagonists in this sub-genre—this should have been the role that made him one of America's leading men.
Only toward the end does this hot-wire ride start to become cluttered with self-conscious gravity—Fishburne's voice-over starts to ring false when he drops stilted religious analogies—but this is for the most part a smart, dark, socially conscious thriller with the persuasive feel of noir.
Once under, the plot provocatively centers on the agonizing moral compromises Fishburne must make and his realization that right and wrong is relative to the power of the almighty dollar. Deeply cynical about the government's purported "War on Drugs"—at one point even implicating the president by name—the film sees it as just another white power structure profiting from, and fueling, a largely minority industry; honest cops and citizens pay the price for this malfeasance, an imbalance Fishburne eventually exploits with aplomb. But as much as it takes authoritarian corruption for granted, Deep Cover's attitude toward interracial sexual relations is at once fresh and unpretentious: As Jeff Goldblum's sleazy lawyer emerges from a black mistress's apartment quipping to Fishburne about the allure of exotic flesh, the film both confirms and renders ridiculous the sexual legend that, furtively, white men desire black women (and vice-versa). Instead of giggling around the issue, the film promotes this coupling as a reality, thereby reveling in the adolescent quest for exoticism and proving it a ridiculous affectation; in other words, "Get off your ass, white boy. It's no big deal." Deep Cover is also a showcase for Fishburne to prove his mettle as a leading man. He's consistently captivating, evincing the inner torment, sensitivity, and moral indecision so rare for protagonists in this sub-genre—this should have been the role that made him one of America's leading men.
Only toward the end does this hot-wire ride start to become cluttered with self-conscious gravity—Fishburne's voice-over starts to ring false when he drops stilted religious analogies—but this is for the most part a smart, dark, socially conscious thriller with the persuasive feel of noir.
