All that holds writer-director Angel Manuel Soto’s three barely converging plot lines together is an obvious, “Gee, ain’t drugs bad?” message. The stories, one more exploitable than the next, focus on an adolescent scrapper who, in order to box his way to the top, must first assist in settling a score by beating to death the son of his promoter’s rival. Next there’s an infertile nurse who contemplates stealing a crack baby from her mother. Subject #3 is a Puerto Rican drug mule who drives his bike across the border, his fat, adolescent belly filled with heroin balloons. After it was over, my flat screen needed a shower. (2016) — Scott Marks
This movie is not currently in theaters.