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The romance between black architect Flipper Purify and his white office temp Angie Tucci is the subject of director Spike Lee's Jungle Fever, a statement on interracial love and its effects on the society at large.
It's all too much for Lee to handle. Jungle Fever is overlong, yet he hasn't found the screen time to give each of these people his or her reasons, and even the Snipes and Sciorra characters slip away from him.
Jungle Fever may be a failure, but it is the kind of failure that engenders hope: It finds Lee refining the skills he already possesses and striking out in encouraging new directions.
Jungle Fever is so many graceful things, so many angry things, so many truly moving things that its occasional faults are the faults of excess passion, not failure of imagination.
Lee's direction is wonderfully fluid and, as in most of his movies, he is superbly served by the striking cinematography of Ernest Dickerson and strong lead performances. However, there is a glibness to his script.