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"Shut yo mout’!"
With its exemplary direction and low-key, almost arthouse leanings, Shaft is a much better film than you probably remember.
Richard Roundtree might not be the world’s greatest actor, but he is the embodiment of cool, ably backed up by some witty lines. ("What do I look like, some kind of klutz?" asks a police chief. "Don’t ask and I won’t tell you" quips Shaft). The Blaxploitation handle is a tad disingenuous, (though did people really once say things like "Yeah baby, right on" ??) and it more than transcends such a patronising motif.
The plot itself turns out to be sufficiently involved, if not complex, with Roundtree’s gumshoe caught between the police, local gangsters, Black Panthers and the Mafia. Antonio Fargas does his pimp informer schtick some four years before Starsky and Hutch, while there’s a genuine rapport between Roundtree and Charles Cioffi.
Isaac Hayes’s songs are so good they go without saying; from the cartoonish theme to the sublime Soulsville. The sex scenes are admittedly kitsch, but the rest of the production belies its 70s origins. Sound quality and dubbing are frequently shaky, though never enough to detract.





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