Ethnic epic covering much the same ground, a year later, covered by American Me, only less of it and at greater length: three hours of heavily accented and sometimes English-subtitled snarls and sneers, directed by Taylor Hackford with his customary disdain for subtlety. (Floyd Mutrux receives a screenwriting credit on both films, and one can only assume -- so similar are the two storylines -- that he is getting credit twice for the same piece of work.) Following the more or less parallel paths of three East L.A. "homies" for over a decade could have been and should have been a prescription for scope and contrast, no matter how narrow. (The narrower the scope and the contrast, the bleaker the view.) But wherever there is divergence, Hackford elects to stick with the cliché. When one of the three goes into the Marines and another goes into San Quentin, Hackford will go with the latter. (The third has his back broken and his hand slashed on the very day he is awarded an art scholarship, and goes nowhere.) When the one eventually gets out of the service and back on the streets as a narc, he may then be allowed to get back in the movie, but only infrequently. This seems a waste, because the actor, Benjamin Bratt, is the most charismatic snarler and sneerer in the cast. With Damian Chapa, Jesse Borrego, Enrique Castillo. (1993) — Duncan Shepherd
This movie is not currently in theaters.