You can understand the desire to remake 1972’s Super Fly. That moment when its protagonist stands up to the corrupt white officer blew up theaters. People saw his manner of dress, his car, his look and said: "I want that". It’s also dated in some ways, and the same can be said about this stylishly directed remake.
Youngblood Priest (Trevor Jackson) is an Atlantan drug dealer who has remained unnoticed by renouncing extravagance and keeping his wits sharp. After a spat with rival gang Snow Patrol, he decides to make one last big job and get out of the game for good.
2018 made movie history with Black Panther. In it, blacks were proud, heroic, well-developed, complex individuals amid a story that celebrated African culture. It was a step forward… and in a way, Superfly is a step back. Maybe half a step. Did we NEED this? Black men parading in gold and diamonds, with fancy cars and scantily clad women on their laps, throwing money everywhere they go to “prove” they have self-worth while flooding streets with crime? King T’Challa came to realize his country’s wealth and knowledge, when hoarded, meant passively contributing to the suffering of others. No one in Superfly has any concern for anyone but themselves, not even Priest. I don’t think it’s meaning to do so, but it’s perpetuating stereotypes. Maybe you don’t agree. That’s fine. Let’s move on.
The soundtrack by Future is excellent and Director X has an eye for the lifestyle he’s showcasing. Together, they bring this world to life. The lavish cars, beautiful women, finely-tailored outfits, stylish hairdos and opulent households shown make you drool. Even the weapons are works of art. I was also impressed by the performances, particularly Trevor Jackson, who makes you believe he’s smart enough to be the one who gets away. A number of the supporting performers, such as Michael Keneth Williams (As Scatter, Priest’s mentor), Jennifer Morrison (as a corrupt detective) and Jason Mitchell (as Eddie, Priest’s partner-in-crime) stand out.
Then again, the film makes perplexing choices, such as having Priest in a polyamorous relationship with Lex Scott Davis and Andrea Londo - how else do you shoehorn in a long threesome between three gorgeous people? Then, there are the action sequences, which get pretty ridiculous, particularly when cars light up like their engines run on dynamite. I bypassed every weird choice, even the Kung Fu, thinking the ending would clench it, but it's such a "What? No way!?" fantasy it can't be excused.
If only Superfly was like its protagonist and decided to quit before it went too far and reigned itself in instead of indulging in its fantasies of being a high-rolling drug dealer. Then, it might've been able to actually say something. Instead, it becomes dated, a beautiful, super cool-looking, but empty picture. (Theatrical version on the big screen, June 19, 2018)