Shaft

Samuel L. Jackson IS John Shaft.

I don't care about Richard Roundtree; I don't care about Shaft in Africa. Different films, different era, different Shaft. Richard Roundtree was Shaft then, and he did a damn fine job.

But Sam Jackson IS Shaft now, and that's the most important thing to remember when viewing the Y2K incarnation of the street-fightin' man, because it's the only thing that makes the new Shaft redeemable and worth seeing.

Jackson does more than carry the role--he lifts it high over his head, slams it down to the ground, slaps a pair of cuffs on it and then beats a confession from it. He's that good. His confidence and intelligence throughout the movie is a joy to behold. This is clearly a man who's been salivating for the chance to dig into an action role this juicy, and he seizes every moment for every ounce of drama and intensity it's worth. The presence, the poise, the style--it's all Shaft and it's all Jackson.

It's a shame, then, that the screenwriters couldn't have come up with a more elegant plot for this big, beautiful action hero to participate in, because the storyline in Shaft is exactly the kind of bloated, overconcieved jibberish that you'd expect from a relentlessly mediocre summer crime film. The first forty minutes move by just fine, as Shaft arrives on the scene at a brutal assault and takes Walter Williams (Christian Bale) into custody for the crime--only to watch him escape with ease thanks to his father's bail money and flee to Switzerland. The film then fast-forwards to two years later, where Shaft surprises Williams by meeting him just as he lands in America and arresting him yet again. Of course, he escapes just as easily as he did the first time, only this time he has a goal: to track down the waitress (Toni Collette) who saw the attack and could testify against him.

That moment, right there, is where the plot skitters out of control. The screenwriters have Willaims, the waitress, Cuban drug dealer Peoples Hernandez (an unrecognizable Jeffrey Wright in a tour-de-force supporting performance), and of course John Shaft to juggle. To a lesser extent, they also have to toss around Shaft's wacky sidekick Rasaan (a hilarious Busta Rhymes); Shaft's lone ally on the police force, Carmen (Vanessa Williams, completely wasted); and two crooked cops who horn in on the action as Peoples' hired guns.

Everyone wants to find the waitress. The waitress doesn't want to be found. Peoples and Walter share a few tense verbal sparring matches when Walter wants to hire Peoples to track down the waitress. The waitress has two beefy brothers who are trying to protect her. One of them gets stabbed. Peoples' brother gets shot, as do the crooked cops and Carmen. Oh, and don't forget the occasional guest spots by Richard Roundtree as the uncle of the current Shaft.

It's a mess. It's also boring, which is a far greater sin. And the boring mess only keeps the camera away from Jackson, who electrifies the screen every second he's on it. When he's cruising around the city and kicking ass, the iconic "Shaft" theme by Isaac Hayes throbbing in the background, this is one kick-ass movie. When you're trying to figure out why the cops are following Shaft, who they're working for, why they shot Carmen--I mean, really, who gives a shit?

When you sell a movie as starring Sam Jackson as Shaft, all you need to do is deliver lots of fantastic ass-kicking by your title character. That's what some of this movie does, and those moments make the whole enterprise worth seeing. But if you do catch Shaft at your local googleplex, be prepared for a long, boring stretch in the middle.

And Mr. Shaft, sir? I know you're still the man, but if you could beat some sense into the screenwriters for your next film outing, you'd be an even better man. And no, I won't shut my mouth.