As a new wave of Black filmmakers enters the motion picture industry, more and more movies depicting ghetto life are reaching the big screen. Despite the artistic success of directors such as spike Lee and John Singleton though, many filmmakers still fail to present a credible, sympathetic portrait of inner city life. Dealing with life, love and moral issues in the ghetto is hard--and even the best offerings often seem cliched, parodies of what they wish to portray.

But Deep cover, Bill Duke's first release since A Rage in Harlem, serves the genre well. Duke develops his theme--the classic struggle between obligation to the community and obligation to the self--while painting a realistic and vivid picture of the ghetto. In the drug-steeped world of Deep Cover, salvation as well as justice, is at stake.

Deep Cover stars Larry Fishburne of Boyz N The Hood fame as John Stevens, a cop who is trying to escape his past as the son of a junkie. He accepts an undercover assignment as drug dealer to infiltrate a powerful narcotics ring with ties to the U.S. government.

Assuming the alias of John Hull, Stevens sets about his task, scaring himself with his facility at selling the product. Rapidly ascending through the drug ring hierarchy, he begins to work with David Jason (Jeff Goldblum) a suburban attorney with high aspirations. Together, they hit the big time, and Stevens gets the opportunity to enjoy the sweet life of a dealer--cool car, big penthouse, beautiful girlfriend, the works.

On the verge of the big bust, though, Stevens assignment is terminated in the name of political expediency. Disillusioned--but fabulously wealthy--Stevens makes a desperate choice, and his ongoing odyssey through ghetto drug culture becomes a search for meaning and redemption, a chance to make a difference.

Duke paints his picture of the inner city in angry colors. As the violence of a mad world unfolds on the screen, the power of an angrier sound track envelops us. The bleakness of the ghetto, reflected in the poignancy of the characters' lives, overpowers the audience.

Duke and screenwriters Henry Bean and Michael Tolkin have made only minimal concessions to Hollywood. They tell a story of drug life without glorifications. A dealer's life is short and sweet; the existence is one in which killing a man is "liberating."

Duke, Bean and Tolkin don't hesitate to expose anything--from gore-soaked violence to blatantly racist language. Deep Cover is at time offensive, but its hard-core realism lends enormous credibility . Even an occasional use of stereotype, employed to humanize characters, becomes effective.

Deep Cover takes on the volatile ethical and moral issues that challenge inner city communities and lays them out, intelligently and with brutal honesty. As Stevens reflects on his actions, he turns to the audience with a compelling challenge: "what would you do?" he asks. Although it's a formidable question to ponder, the viewers have no choice. Duke's film makes Stevens' dilemma remarkably immediate.