TRBAB-icon

It’s amaz­ing that more films haven’t been made from the nov­els of Iceberg Slim.  Starting with Pimp: The Story Of My Life, Slim (alias Robert Beck) wrote a string of fast-selling paper­back books that chron­i­cled crime and street life from a uniquely African-American per­spec­tive.  He’d pimped and hus­tled before turn­ing to writ­ing and that gave him the abil­ity to recre­ate that milieu from the inside out.  Most of what Beck wrote makes con­ven­tional blax­ploita­tion fare look like Pollyanna.  Sadly, the only one thus far to make it to sil­ver screen is Trick Baby.  Though it is often lumped in with the blax­ploita­tion films of the era, this movie has more to offer.

Trick Baby focuses on the rela­tion­ship between Blue (Mel Harris) and White Folks (Kiel Martin), a pair of hus­tlers ply­ing their trade in the big city.  Blue is an aging pro who acts as tutor/father fig­ure to Folks, a younger con artist of mixed parent­age who can “pass for white.”  Folk’s white appear­ance allows them to pull off cons beyond the inner city and the two have honed their act to a sci­ence as they con­tinue to look for the big score.

Unfortunately, things become com­pli­cated when they are on the verge of scam­ming some white busi­ness­men to the tune of $130,000.   An old man they recently scammed dies of a stress-induced heart attack, caus­ing his angry mafioso nephew Nino Parelli (Tony Mazzadra) to swear vengeance.  This opens up an oppor­tu­nity for cor­rupt cop Dot Harris (Dallas Edward Hayes) to black­mail the duo and he demands a pay­off to keep them out of Parelli’s clutches.  Blue and Folks strug­gle to close their big score but the risks of the con game rear the ugly heads, mak­ing things very dif­fi­cult for this duo.

It’s a com­pelling sto­ry­line and one that could have been soft­ened down into con­ven­tional Hollywood fare but director/co-writer Larry Yust never takes the easy road.  Trick Baby deliv­ers the intri­ca­cies of con game in sev­eral fun sequences that pre­fig­ure The Sting but it also explores its dan­gers.  Blue and Folks have to con­stantly watch out for divi­sive forces both exter­nal (Nino, Dot) and inter­nal, like Blue’s faith­less younger girl­friend and Folks’ care­fully hid­den inner anguish over his inabil­ity to belong to either white or black soci­ety.  By the end, the viewer real­izes that the con lifestyle dooms a per­son to a life of sur­face appear­ances and the con­stant threat of danger.

Trick Baby com­mu­ni­cates these psy­cho­log­i­cal com­plex­i­ties via excel­lent per­for­mances from Harris and Martin:  Harris is capa­ble of switch­ing his con per­sona on and off yet shows a touch­ing vul­ner­a­bil­ity in his moments with his young pupil while Martin cre­ates a breezy, devil-may-care per­sona that he occa­sion­ally pulls away to reveal the emo­tional con­fu­sion lurk­ing under­neath.  There is also solid work from Hayes as the dim but ambi­tious cop, who is given to fits of anger because he knows he is as lim­ited in life options as the hus­tlers he’s chas­ing.  Equally wor­thy of note is Beverly Ballard’s brief but gutsy turn as Susan, a white “mark” who falls into a rela­tion­ship with Folks and gets stung: the scene where she comes undone after real­iz­ing she’s been toyed with is heartbreaking.

Finally, Trick Baby ben­e­fits from crisp, pace-conscious direc­tion by Larry Yust, who is bet­ter known to cult flick fans for helm­ing the odd black comedy/horror hybrid, Homebodies.  Yust makes atmos­pheric use of real urban loca­tions, cre­at­ing a con­vinc­ing street back­drop for his actors to bounce off of, and han­dles the story with pre­cise tim­ing.  He also chore­o­graphs the action and sus­pense ele­ments of the film really well, par­tic­u­larly a tense foot-chase between Folks and Dot.  The film’s sec­ond half is a lit­tle slower than the first half but that worked for Your Humble Reviewer because this is where the psy­cho­log­i­cal angle of the film is allowed to sink in, build­ing up to a mem­o­rable final scene.

Like the book it adapts, Trick Baby has more to offer than just cheap thrills.  There’s a real depth to this mate­r­ial and it is deserv­ing of a big­ger audience.