Directed by Juel Taylor
Written by Tony Rettenmaier and Juel Taylor
Starring:
- John Boyega as Fontaine
- Jamie Foxx as Slick Charles
- Teyonah Parris as Yo-Yo
- Kiefer Sutherland as Nixon
- David Alan Grier as The Preacher
Rating: 
There’s something exhausting about the way social commentary permeates much of today’s entertainment—it often feels like a perfunctory obligation rather than a sincere artistic statement. And yet, Juel Taylor’s directorial debut defies expectation. This electrifying blend of blaxploitation, sci-fi, and satire morphs into a deliriously clever, genre-bending spectacle—held together by one of the year’s most intricate scripts.
Some will hail it as timely and relevant due to its—what I consider somewhat predictable—social critique. But for me, its true relevance lies in its rebellious subversion of genre conventions, its tight narrative construction, and its sheer audacity.
Taylor arrives with no grand cinematic pedigree, only a history of unremarkable screenwriting work. But reinvention is possible, and here he crafts a bold, eccentric thriller—an irrepressible clash of conspiracy, capitalism, and African American pop mythology. There’s a calculated madness to the way the film refuses temporal specificity. Are we in the ’70s? The ’80s? The ’90s? It’s never clear. Costumes contradict context, references defy chronology, and these paradoxes fuel the film’s absurdist identity.
Fontaine (John Boyega) operates as a drug dealer in a neighborhood suffocating under its own decay. One night, after collecting a debt from a showy pimp (Jamie Foxx), he is gunned down by a rival gang. But then he wakes up—alive, unscarred, with no memory of his murder. Alongside Foxx’s boisterous character and a sharp-tongued prostitute (Teyonah Parris), Fontaine stumbles into a sinister mystery that grows more unhinged at every turn. The thrill lies in not knowing where the story will lead.
When the film embraces its satirical instincts, exposing the grotesque mechanics of American power through biting humor, it is exhilarating. But when it leans too heavily into its social message—abandoning its playful self-awareness—some of its brilliance falters. There are moments where the film missteps, where it overplays its message, where its balance wavers.
Still, Taylor’s direction ensures a relentless pace, and the performances shine—Foxx is irresistibly charismatic, Parris commands attention, and Boyega anchors the chaos. It’s not a flawless execution, but as a wildly paranoid, existentialist experiment in genre fusion, it is utterly compelling. A disorienting, riotous, and unexpectedly absorbing cinematic trip.
