Rarely have I seen a modern movie about romance that was so angry and bitter--and all without purpose. The Maya Angelou poetry seems out-of-place in a story about a beautician's rocky courtship with a troubled postman in South Central L. A., and yet it practically sounds like music next to all the "F--- you"'s and N-words. Some may argue this constant foul language is "realistic", but the majority of the film is unconvincing in its relationships (which are puzzling, to say the least). Janet Jackson has a sweet smile, and looks attractive in her corn-rows and floppy hats, but the mercurial tone of the picture is up and down, back and forth, and finally we just give up on 'Justice' and all her scowling friends. And what about that ratty beginning at the drive-in? *1/2 from ****
Review of Poetic Justice
