Deep Cover may have been lost on its audience in 1992. Though Black filmmaking was riding an unprecedented wave of popularity following the critical and commercial success of Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing (1989) and John Singleton’s Boyz n the Hood (1991), the precipitous balance of film noir storytelling and social commentary in Bill Duke’s film didn’t fit in with hard realism of the aforementioned titles. Instead, the Laurence Fishburne-starring vehicle feels more at home in a modern reading than it did at the time of its release.
In the film, Fishburne plays Russell Stevens, a Cincinnati policeman brought in by the DEA to help stop some high-ranking drug dealers in Los Angeles. This is easier said than done, according to Fishburne’s voiceover, setting up the viewer for a twisty story where Stevens begins to question his own place as he pushes deeper into the underworld. This is not a simple story of a cop breaking bad. Instead, it’s a look at a Black man questioning his own place in the hierarchy of law enforcement and within America itself.
We first meet Stevens as a child in 1972. It’s a snowy night in Cleveland, near Christmas. This is Stevens recalling his past. He tells us in voiceover, “So gather round as I run it down and unravel my pedigree.” We learn that his father was a junkie and that he was murdered in a botched robbery in front of the young Stevens. There and then, the boy vows never to end up like his old man.
Flashforward to Cincinnati. It’s the early ‘90s and Carver (Charles Martin Smith) is auditioning a series of Black cops by asking them, “Tell me, do you know the difference between a Black man and a n**?” He eventually settles on Stevens who doesn’t react out of shock or anger. He simply answers, “The n** is the one who would even answer that question.” Carver, who is looking for someone to go deep undercover and impersonate a drug dealer, believes that Stevens is the perfect match based on his psychological profile. As someone who resents authority and has an insufficient developed sense of self, the part that Stevens holds back is the perfect fit for a criminal. Reluctant and still struggling with the violence in his past, Stevens decides to assume the role of John Hull.
Deep Cover is best known as the birthplace of the song of the same name, Dr. Dre’s first single after N.W.A. and the first appearance of Snoop Dogg. But the film also features dynamite performances by Fishburne and Jeff Goldblum, who plays David Jason, the drug traffickers’ lawyer who teams up with Stevens on a scheme to distribute synthetic drugs. David, however, doesn’t fulfill the white savior stereotype that would infect a lesser film. Instead, it’s Stevens who must decide whether to save David or let him slip away into the abyss.
Duke, working with a screenplay by Michael Tolkin and Henry Bean, plays with the notion of code switching and duality for Black people in American society. As Stevens goes deeper undercover, it is unclear where he ends and Hull begins. The mask begins to replace the face. We know from Stevens’ initial voiceover narration that things don’t end well. But will our protagonist surrender his soul?
Though Deep Cover received good reviews at the time, it has been eclipsed by other titles from the same era. Perhaps Duke’s interest in inquiry rather than simply answers prevented the movie from being a total success. This is a film that can be enjoyed on multiple levels and whether you’re simply in it for the action or more interested in the social commentary, Deep Cover is a film ready for rediscovery.
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