“When something happens in South Central Los Angeles, nothing happens. It's just another brother dead.” So says Ice Cube in the opening lines to his rap group's provocative song, Straight Outta Compton, from the album of the same name. Now similar themes and neighborhoods, which had previously been nationally spotlighted solely by the rap genre, are explored within the equally riveting urban postcard Boyz n the Hood, written and directed by 22-year-old newcomer John Singleton. “The Hood” is a world in which its inhabitants are ensured failure through their own self-destruction, yet are also preordained to misery through a never ending stream of guns, liquor and a detached indifference from a prejudiced society. Boyz n the Hood, nevertheless, achieves the perfect balance between social commentary and entertainment—a feat not even truly accomplished by fellow auteur and race centered filmmaker, Spike Lee.

A seven-year time gap contrasts three young boys growing up in the hood into the scared, confused men they become. With a framework that contains multiple allusions to another strong coming of age story, Stand By Me, Mr. Singleton has created more than simply a violent, meandering gangsta flick. Boyz n the Hood is a powerful, thought provoking reflection on a culture that white America cheerfully observes from a distance on the evening news, yet nervously avoids when given a face-to-face encounter. Here, Singleton provides more than just a face-to-face encounter; it is a slice of life, one so driven by voice and social awareness that no audience should dare resist it. Within the first few seconds of the film, Singleton forewarns his audience with an intimidating shot of a stop sign, a gradual pan towards the red octagon, as if to say if you are not willing to think or ready to be challenged, this might not be the film for you.

The film begins with the arrival of Tre to the house of his father. Singleton deliberately exercises restraint in revealing the location of the story—no grandiose film techniques are implemented, allowing the natural arc of the story and the characters to reveal themselves. Tre's father, Furious Styles (a fantastic Larry Fishburne), is a disciplined, wise man who is dedicated to keeping his son off the streets and teaching him “how to be a man.” The lessons Tre learns from his father—ranging from social justice to cleaning a bath tub—give the film the perspective it needs. In a neighborhood of senseless murder and death, the intelligent bond between Tre and Furious keeps both of them out of trouble. Once Tre (Cuba Gooding Jr.) is an adult, his father's reason and their mutual dependence on one another is put to the test.

Early on, Doughboy, an angry, energetic childhood friend of Tre, remarks that his brother's infatuation with football stems from his relationship with “his daddy.” In another scene, a fight erupts between two children because one boy is teased for not “having a father.” These insights bind the entire film as each main character's behavior and motivation can be linked to their relationship to a parent, just as is the case between Furious and Tre. Watch closely each time tough guy gangster, the grown up Doughboy (Ice Cube) reacts when scolded by his mother. Suddenly, this murderer and drug dealer is a little boy again, desperate for his cold, stubborn mother's affection. The scope of their tragic relationship is Shakespearean if not Biblical.

The first strength that must be accredited to young Mr. Singleton is his ability to perfectly capture the atmosphere and mannerisms of his film's subjects. The credibility of this film hinges upon the sharp, natural flow of the dialogue and the subtleties that encompass the culture he is attempting to analyze. Through Furious, Singleton articulates the film's political agenda, a very persuasive, thesis driven argument—it is not only refreshing, but true. Gunshots, screaming babies and overhead helicopters are prevalent throughout the entire film, almost always off screen. These ubiquitous sounds almost become characters in and of themselves, making several lines of dialogue inaudible. As Tre and the audience helplessly look on during a pivotal phone conversation between his feuding parents, the outcome of the argument is kept secret as several closely-approximated helicopters fly directly above his home.

Singleton was also able to coax strong performances from actors as diverse as Ice Cube to Larry Fishburne. They bring to the table an anger fueled by their own personal background and keen insights into the men they are portraying. Ice Cube, in particular, demonstrates a hidden, powerful range in playing the tragic homeboy Doughboy. Notice his clever use of the double entendre and the way he thoughtfully pauses before speaking, if only to resort back to his conventional role as a profane ne'er-do-well. Beyond the expletives and slacker mentality, Doughboy's quiet self awareness and inner dignity, especially near the film's finale, is disarmingly touching.

On a lesser note, there were several discrepancies between the grown up versions of Tre and Doughboy and their younger counterparts. The young Tre did not seem to be compatible to the older Tre in demeanor or attitude—they didn't even have the same skin tone. And the older Tre, as played by Gooding, appears puny and emasculate in several scenes, which seems implausible considering the strict upbringing by his father, the harsh environment around him and the raw ferocity possessed as a youth. The film, despite its insightful commentary, always occasionally ventures into two-dimensional finger pointing, issues later resolved in Singleton's wonderful companion piece, Baby Boy.

The message of this 110 minute picture is far more introspective and delicate than the trailers and the violence surrounding its premiere seems to suggest. Rather than be exploiting the violence which exists in areas like Compton, Mr. Singleton has channeled the bloodshed and brutality to a greater effect. He provides a nuanced voice for a culture too often labeled and written off as “stupid” and “violent.” Boyz n the Hood is neither shallow nor spineless in its presentation, a courageous effort by John Singleton who provides a real, raw approach to filmmaking and is backed with driven, fully realized acting.