It's all about guilt.

Did you know that there used to be a time when the white man did bad things to the black man just because he was black? Well if you didn't, you will once you've seen this movie.

Now before you light your fires and prepare to roast my racist hiney, chill down. I'm as colorblind as the next guy, or at least that's what I tell the police when I've run a red light, but I for one am sick and tired of films trying to get me to apologize for being white. This movie does just that.

The movie? Ghosts of Mississippi. It's a true story of a racist white man who murdered a black civil rights leader in the 60's and pretty much got away with it just because he's white, and the victim was black. That was wrong. He killed a man, he should have paid the price in the 60's and been put away for life.

But he didn't and so we have our movie. But sadly, the movie bogs itself down in this racial issue and becomes a boring tirade. And I do mean boring. But worse than boring, it's PREDICTABLE.

Now first off, anything based on a true story is, by definition, predictable. I mean, if we want to know how it ends, we can look it up. So if you're gonna make a movie about it, you have to find ways to surprise us or keep us interested. But Director Rob Reiner, who has directed some truly great films in his day, is just begging for an award with this one, and Meathead ain't gonna get it. It's so predictable, we turned outguessing the story into a drinking game.

"If he comes out of the elevator and it's Whoopie, everybody drink once."

"If she's there to give him the missing transcripts, drink twice!"

"And... it's transcripts!! Two drinks for everyone!!!!"

The performances are... fine. Alec Baldwin is the remorseful white guy. Whoopie Goldberg is a wonderful injured black widow. James Woods is the totally evil white racist, who is so black and white (pardon the pun... unless it made you laugh, then nevermind) that Cruella DeVil has more depth.

See, I got no problem with movies on this subject, but when they harp and preach, it just gets dull. And there's about as much action in this movie as there's been in my bedroom in the last year or so.

Which is to say none.

So if you see it, bring your generation guilt and your VISA card, because at Ghosts of Mississippi they don't take kindly to white folk and they don't take American Express.

I've always wanted to do that.

I give Ghosts of Mississippi 2 Babylons. Most of them are for the chance to write the word Mississippi over and over again. It's just a fun word to spell.


Editor's Note:

Send those letters of compliant to shutup@lungfish.com and address them to The Self-Made Critic. The rest of us have little or no connection to him and his views. Please don't burn our offices down.

We loved Boyz N Da Hood, we really did.