![]() ![]() The makers of “Snow on tha Bluff” flip that reasoning. Often makers of feature films using a documentary’s tools - hand-held cameras, jumpy cuts, ambient lighting, fragmented narrative - say they do so to approximate reality. No one seems to have a steady job, and there’s no shaking the sense of wasted souls in a forsaken sector of society. #Damon russell snow on tha bluff crack#This riveting account of thug life - the unglamorous, impoverished variety - is punctuated by constant profanity and undecipherable slang, occasional violence, steady drinking and weed or crack smoking. “They say drugs kill you,” he says to the camera, before disagreeing: “They help you out. We also learn about Snow’s business: selling drugs that are largely supplied, it seems, by ripping off other dealers at gunpoint during late-night raids. So we tour the Bluff while he introduces his crew, his baby mama and two toddlers, his grandmother, the street corner where his brother was fatally shot. ![]() The dealer, Curtis Snow, steals one other thing too: the idea of filming everything he does. ![]() A dealer approaches the car, smoothly talks his way in, directs them to a secluded street, then, pulling out a handgun, robs them of their money and - why not? - the camera. From the start of “Snow on tha Bluff,” which runs without any introductory credits, this jolt of a film drops into a you-are-there crime scene: Three college students - one manning a video camera - drive into the Bluff, a run-down neighborhood in West Atlanta (actually, run-down is being kind), looking to buy drugs. ![]()
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