Category: Genflix

After the commercial breakthrough of New Jack City earlier that year, Boyz n the Hood didn’t just continue the momentum of the Black New Wave — it defined it. Marketed by 23-year-old USC film school graduate John Singleton as “the script that will do for South Central what Do the Right Thing did for Brooklyn,” the film opened on July 12, 1991, taking third place in the box office behind the money-making machine Terminator 2: Judgment Day and…101 Dalmatians?  Similar to New Jack City, Singleton’s modestly distributed drama (829 theaters compared to T2’s 2, 289) not only pulled in more per theater than its competitors, it also beat out the highly anticipated and equally disappointing Point Break starring Hollywood heartthrobs Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves despite having nearly twice the distribution and almost a four times higher budget.

But box office numbers only tell part of the story.

At its core, Boyz n the Hood is a coming-of-age tragedy disguised as a neighborhood drama. Through Tre, Ricky, and Doughboy, Singleton examines how environment narrows opportunity long before “choice” ever enters the conversation. The film tackles racial inequality, police brutality, gang violence, and masculinity — but its emotional center is fatherhood.

Laurence Fishburne’s Furious Styles is the moral and ideological spine of the film. Tough, politically aware, and deeply invested in his son, Furious represents a counter-narrative rarely centered in early ’90s studio filmmaking: a present, principled Black father. His speech about gentrification and economic displacement could feel preachy, but here it grounds the film in structural reality. Furious doesn’t just want Tre to survive — he wants him to understand the system shaping his life.

Cuba Gooding Jr.’s Tre becomes the audience’s emotional entry point. He is not hardened like Doughboy or athletically gifted like Ricky; he is observant, conflicted, and searching. The film’s tension rests on whether Tre’s guidance will be enough to pull him clear of the gravitational force surrounding him. Gooding would go on to win an Academy Award for Jerry Maguire, a role that briefly made him one of the industry’s most recognizable supporting actors. But his performance here remains his most grounded — stripped of showmanship, anchored in vulnerability.

Morris Chestnut’s Ricky embodies fragile hope. His football scholarship represents the narrow, almost mythic escape route offered to young Black men in similar environments. When Ricky is killed in one of the film’s most devastating sequences, Singleton refuses spectacle. The violence is abrupt, chaotic, and senseless. There is no operatic slow motion — just loss. In that moment, the film reveals its thesis: talent and goodness offer no immunity from systemic neglect.

Ice Cube’s Doughboy, in his feature film debut, delivers the movie’s quiet gut punch. What could have been a caricature becomes something far more tragic. Doughboy understands the rules of his world better than anyone. His final monologue — reflecting on how no one cares about what happens in the neighborhood — remains one of the most haunting closing notes in modern American cinema. It shifts the blame from individuals to indifference.

Regina King, in an early performance as Shalika, brings texture to the neighborhood’s social world. Though not given the same narrative weight as the male leads, her presence hints at the range she would later display in If Beale Street Could Talk, Watchmen, and beyond — performances that earned her industry-wide acclaim and positioned her as one of her generation’s most respected actors.

Critics at the time argued that Singleton’s messaging could feel heavy-handed. But the urgency of the storytelling — its refusal to romanticize violence or sanitize grief — gives the film its power. Singleton became the youngest nominee ever for the Academy Award for Best Director, and the first Black filmmaker nominated in that category. He was 24 years old.

In later years, Singleton moved into more mainstream studio fare (Shaft, 2 Fast 2 Furious, Four Brothers) and television projects such as The People v. O. J. Simpson: American Crime Story. Yet Boyz n the Hood remains his defining work — not because of its awards recognition, but because of its clarity of voice. It felt immediate. It felt lived in. It felt like a warning.

For many Gen X viewers, Boyz n the Hood was a first encounter with adult realism in American film. It wasn’t stylized urban mythology. It was intimate and unsettling. More than three decades later, its themes — systemic inequality, over-policing, fractured opportunity — remain painfully current.

What endures most is not the tragedy, but the tenderness: a father teaching responsibility, friends joking on a porch, a young man choosing not to pull a trigger. In a film filled with inevitability, those small moments of agency still resonate.

And that may be Singleton’s lasting achievement — not simply documenting a neighborhood, but insisting that the lives within it were worthy of epic treatment.

We begin our February series that commemorates Black History Month with a look at the movie that spearheaded the 90s Black New Wave that was in the spirt of the gritty action crime movies of the 1970s.  New Jack City opened in the US on March 8th, 1991 after a favorable response at the Sundance Film Festival earlier in the year.  It was a landmark year for the festival as some of the 90s signature “indie” films such as Todd Hayne’s ‘Poison’, Hal Hartley’s ‘Trust’ and Richard Linklater’s ‘Slacker’ became cult classics that embodied the movement; low budget, quirky and mostly white.  However, it was New Jack City which not only garnered attention from the indie crowd but also from the mainstream.

Coming out at the time when the Rodney King riots had the nerve to overshadow the smashing success of the first invasion of Iraq (it went so well they made a sequel!), New Jack City took second place in the box office on its opening weekend despite its limited theatrical release, just behind the critically acclaimed and eventual multi-Oscar winner ‘Silence of the Lambs’.  But despite its lower distribution, New Jack City brought in more per theater than Jonathan Demme’s iconic psychological thriller even though many theaters cancelled screenings because of the aftermath of the riots and other isolated incidents.  This response has frequently become one of the earliest examples of what has come to be known as cancel culture and proves that the more they tell you not to, the more you want to as NJC brought in over $47 million in the domestic box office for a film with a budget less than $8 million.

New Jack City was directed by Mario Van Peebles, son of Melvin Van Peebles who is widely regarded as the godfather of the 1970s blaxploitation movement with the groundbreaking classic ‘Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song’.  The story follows Nino Brown’s (Wesley Snipes) rise to power as the top New York drug kingpin during the city’s crack epidemic and detectives Scotty Appleton (Ice T) and Nick Peretti’s (Judd Nelson) pursuit to bring him down.  After a number of supporting roles, most notably as Willie Mays Hayes in ‘Major League’, Snipes ran with his first leading role and established himself as top-billed actor for years to come.  His performance as Nino Brown displayed his versatility, able to turn on the energy with his intense cadence and rhythmic physicality, then catch you off guard with emotionally complex moments such as when Nino tearfully kills his best friend and partner in crime Gee Money.  Because of his strong leading man qualities, he primarily became a big box office action star during a pretty good 10 year run as a Hollywood A-lister, however it would have been nice to see him do more challenging roles such as the work he did with Spike Lee in films like ‘Mo Better Blues’ and ‘Jungle Fever’.  But everybody has bills to pay, especially when you owe the IRS $23.5 million for tax evasion.

It was also a coming out party for Ice T on the big screen, mostly known for his rap/hip-hop career, showing some acting chops as Detective Appleton who was on a mission to not only bring down Brown but also to settle a personal score, delivering one of many great lines from the movie.  After taking on similar roles in films like ‘Ricochet’ and ‘Tresspass’, Ice T won the lotto when he teamed up with Dick Wolf on the highly successful but less edgy ‘Law & Order’ franchise.  He even shared his passion for rhymes on Sesame Street.

After getting his start with a small role in 1987’s Beverly Hills Cop 2 and becoming a mainstay on Saturday Night Live in 1990, Chris Rock opened eyes with his first dramatic role as Pookie, the troubled but well-intentioned crackhead and FBI informant who succumbed to the same fate many suffered during the crack epidemic of the 1980s.  Mega stardom has followed Rock all the way to Oscars, but not in the way you think.

Judd Nelson, a rather curious casting choice, looked very much out of place on the New York inner city streets and out of 1985.  Though his legacy as one of the key members of the Brat Pack is firmly in place as John Bender, the headbanger bad ass from ‘The Breakfast Club’, his turn as Nick Peretti segued Nelson to the next stage of his career along with Molly Ringwald and Anthony Michael Hall into the Wack Pack.

Not to be discounted from NJC’s cultural impact was a hit soundtrack that featured big stars at the time Johnny Gill, Keith Sweat, 2 Live Crew, and Queen Latifah.  Released by Giant Records and distributed by Warner Bros. on the same week as the film, the NJC soundtrack entered the Billboard Top 40 one month later and got as high as number two on the charts, led by Ice-T’s ‘New Jack Hustler’ and Color Me Badd’s ‘I Wanna Sex You Up’.  The only album that beat NJC for the week of 5/25/1991 was…drum roll…Michael Bolton’s ‘Time, Love and Tenderness’.  NJC spent eight straight weeks in the Top 10 and even spent a week ahead of Gen X icons Mariah Carey and REM when they were at their peak.

Lastly, we would be remiss if we didn’t mention the fashion and style at the time of the film that defined the rap/hip hop/house scene of the early 90s.  Artists like Salt-N-Pepa and TLC and their baggy overalls and box braids challenged feminine norms and expectations for what’s considered stylish and attractive for women.  Out was skin tight mini-skirts and high heel pumps and in was colorful tracksuits, bandanas and high-top sneakers.  As much as Madonna gets credit for challenging sexual norms, making the tomboy look attractive and appealing is an overlooked trend that has lasted to this day.  Tommy Hilfiger owes a lot of his royalties to the men’s scene along with other high end designers like Nautica and Ralph Lauren offering a stylistic contrast with working class brands brands like Timberland and Carhartt.

New Jack City was more than a movie; it was a cultural trend setter that helped shape art, style and slang not just for the black community but all races and backgrounds.  It captured the last days of a city that ceased to exist with the election of a new administration who brought a zero tolerance approach to crime that may have lowered street offenses in the city, it also changed the image of New York from a tough, dirty and blue collar city to a safer, sterile and more expensive one; while also turning a blind eye to white collar crime.  NJC showed the realism that was unapologetic with its harshness because that’s how people lived and still live in not just in New York but all of America; a country still dealing with the same issues it was dealing with 35 years ago; riots, wars and another kind of drug epidemic that rages on.  As Detective Nick Peretti put it; “Death don’t give a shit about color”.

Our look at influential films from artists of color in the 90s continues next week as we switch coasts with the arguably even more impactful 1991 film ‘Boyz N the Hood’.