Fresh is a tight little movie that few people know. Its obscurity is a bit quizzical, considering the film’s first rate cast – heavy hitters like, Giancarlo Esposito and Samuel L. Jackson, both of whom are upstaged by a thirteen-year-old, newbie actor, Sean Nelson, whose gravitas in the lead role is anything but pint sized. That it has been relegated to the back of the distribution catalog might have something to do with the fact that it rode the, “life in the hood” wave of movies that peaked in the mid 90’s, then receded quietly, as slightly bigger budget, much more sensational flicks of that era, like, Boyz n’ the Hood and New Jack City, started to feel deflated and silly; or in the case of Boyz, condescendingly preachy.
But Fresh is infinitely more intelligent than those movies, by a long shot – and crafted with vastly sharper consideration. It follows Fresh, a twelve year old drug dealer whose day-to-day takes place in an unrelenting pressure cooker. If you have any capacity for empathy, you’ll feel a stomach ulcer forming, from the start. Despite his age, Fresh seems always to be the smartest person in the room, and his greatest advantage is that he is chronically underestimated by the corrupt, exploitative adults around him. So, using strategies that he learned from his city-park-speed-Chess-champion-dead-beat father, Fresh brilliantly and systematically clears every one of those adults out of the way, practically without lifting a finger.
There’s a Hitchcockian quality to Fresh, with its subtle twists and turns. It’s as if you’re watching a long form magic trick unveiled. If you’ve ever seen a live magic show, you know that every illusion is performed with a joke or two. In Fresh, the punchline to the trick is sobering. It reveals a child who has been forced to forego his childhood. As with any sleight of hand, the joke’s on you. -GJ