Human Traffic
Rated: R
Directed by Justin Kerrigan
Starring: John Simm, Lorraine Pilkington, Shaun Parkes, Nicola Reynolds, Danny Dyer

A few years ago, a genre was born. It's difficult to name that genre, but it started, roughly, with "Trainspotting" and hit its American nadir, roughly, with "Go." It's the clubs-and-drugs genre, a freewheeling style that examines youth culture with candor and isn't afraid to step outside the constraints of narrative filmmaking. It's a genre on the rise, with each effort being slightly more innovative and energetic than the last. Which makes "Human Traffic," a clubs-and-drugs flick by Welsh writer/director Justin Kerrigan, the best effort to date.

But, as our drug-using malcontent and default narrator Jip (Simm) says, "What goes up, must come down." He's referring to the wave of a drug high, but he might as well be talking about this style of filmmaking itself. As wonderful as "Human Traffic" is, there are little hints and messages that the whole movement is about to fly apart at the seams, just like the chaotic entropy these film directors so admire.

Kerrigan does a wonderful job of creating individual characters with complicated backgrounds and desires (although the women get a bit of the short shrift). Jip is literally the son of a whore, a 22-year-old retail worker who lives for the weekend. Simm looks and acts exactly like a young, Welsh Dana Carvey, and has enough energy to grab the film in his fist and jump up and down with it. He's the kind of actor who would be most comfortable on a trampoline.

His best friend/love interest is LuLu, played lovingly by Lorraine Pilkington, who looks like Joan Osborne, only prettier. The cast is rounded out by Moff (the loveable drug dealer), Nina (the loveable drug user), and Koop (the wannabe DJ who manages to overcome being a token black character).

You want plot? Tough.

You want to watch these five kids party like it's 1999? This is your movie.

The biggest reason to see "Human Traffic" is the innovative onslaught of comic asides. Comparisons will inevitably be drawn to Danny Boyle's use of dream-like sequences and visual tangents, but the vignettes in "Human Traffic" have more in common with the "Naked Gun" series than "Trainspotting." There's an entertaining riff on spliff politics, a convincing depiction of the apocalyptic movie theater job, a gruesome realization of Corporate Wales and its anal fixations, and much much more. These little bits do nothing to advance the story and sometimes nothing to flush out character, but they're damn funny. For Americans, the rest of the humor will come from watching Cockney Kids get down to East Coast Hardcore Hip-Hop. It's comforting to know that we got a little revenge for the British Invasion.

Some of the sequences are either satirical or derivative. There's a long, stoned discussion on the pseudo-religious significance of "Star Wars," which I, for one, have seen quite enough of thanks to Kevin Smith. There's also a loving look at the late Bill Hicks doing his rant on use of drugs without consequences. Now, there's a reason he's the "late" Bill Hicks, so was this clip meant to be taken with a dose of irony? Or as a credo for the characters who, for the most part, make it through their drug binges unscathed?

Not only unscathed, but liberated and in love. Although few people would question how fun drugs can be, it's a little odd to see a film flirt with saying "drugs are good for you." The reason "Trainspotting" and "Go" played so well in America is that the drug users got their comeuppance (dirty, tattered, limping, sick). In "Human Traffic," the drug users get to star in their own tribute to "Singin' in the Rain." The farther this genre runs in that direction, the less these films will matter. B+

East is East
Rated: R
Directed by Damien O'Donnell
Starring: Om Puri, Linda Bassett, Jordan Routledge, Raji James, Jimi Mistry

The movie opens in complete silence, unnerving silence, the kind of silence that makes you think the producer couldn't afford music. From there, "East is East" becomes one continuous bafflement, a long look at culture clash between two cultures that, frankly, America didn't understand to begin with. On the one hand is working class England, and on the other is Muslim Pakistan. Put in those terms, it seems very simple, but when the first thing you see is a man pissing into a metal tub ... and then taking a bath in it ... you know this is an entirely different world.

George Khan (Puri) came to England in the 30s and, despite the fact that he was already married in his native Pakistan, fell in love with an English woman named Ella (Bassett). The two married and, over the years, produced seven children. Six boys, one girl. The film opens with the oldest Khan boy being pushed into a traditional Pakistani arranged marriage. The boy flees the marriage, causing an irate George to declare him dead. One down, six to go.

As the film progresses through its bizarre cloud of culture clash (men swing from tires, naked except for glue and feathers) the one thing that emerges clearly is that George intends to inflict marriage upon his next two boys, Abdul and Tariq (James and Mistry), as soon as possible. Abdul is sort of a square, but Tariq is a full-on Disco King with a British girlfriend and several white lovers in sequins and rollerskates waiting for him on the dance floor. The possibility of a family blowout hangs over the picture like an anvil. And from this, we are supposed to laugh.

Writer Ayub Khan-Din, who based the story on his own life and adapted the screenplay from his stage play, injects humor the easiest way possible -- dick jokes. The youngest boy, Sajid (Routledge), has to get a belated circumcision thanks to his father's discovery that "the tickle-tackle is still there," a dalmation roams the neighborhood humping any available loiterer, and the only college kid, Saleem (Chris Bisson), is working on a sculpture that's not exactly kosher. Since the underlying moral of any culture clash story is the universal truths that bring us together as humans, it seems that Khan-Din believes those universal truths are ugliness and crude humor.

Although these jokes are funny, in a "Porky's" meets "The Piano" kind of way, they do little to lighten up the overall atmosphere of darkness and opression that clouds the movie. The general air of confusion lifts from the youngest character to the oldest. Sajid comes through first, a cute boy with a security-blanket parka through which he views his turbulent world. The only daughter, Meenah, is the next youngest, and comes through the most clearly, thanks to a marvelously spunky performance by Archie Panjabi. Gradually, each sibling emerges as a human, one worth our understanding and sympathy, all the way up to the eldest son, who we discover has run away to Paris to open a hat shop. Unfortunately, the cloud never lifts up over the parents. We never see what Ella sees in George, what she saw in George to begin with, why she'd bear seven children for him, or why she's still with him after two-and-a-half decades. And George? He's the biggest mystery of all, a man so obtuse and indecipherable that his own children don't know how to deal with him ... except to scream a warning whenever he approaches, like groundhogs fleeing a vicious hawk.

The anvil over the Khan family might evoke Looney Tunes, but when it drops the consequences are real, painful, damaging, and brutal. George's reign of terror over his family is not as cute as the filmmakers seem to think it is. Despite one phenomenally well-staged scene toward the end, the movie cannot use crude humor to overcome the horrors of domestic violence. I'd like to say that "East is East" is the funniest family drama I've seen in years, but it's really the most depressing family comedy to ever hit the theaters. The fact that Ella stays with George because she finds satisfaction in brewing him a half a cup of tea might make sense in working class England, or even in Muslim Pakistan, but in America that kind of logic simply doesn't fly. After all, west is west. C