'I've become what I most despise,' opines action-man Seagal in the risibly philosophical opening to this sub-standard bash-'em-up pic. A former narc agent, he makes a spiritual voyage home in search of his 'good side'. Unsurprisingly, his fascination for all things dark soon overwhelms his new-found pacifism, and he renews his struggle against the forces of evil: black dealers under the satanic influence of blue-eyed rasta Screwface (Wallace). The film is wretchedly incoherent; unable to orchestrate action sequences, Little leaves the knock-kneed nihilist flailing in impotent rage to a hideous score. As the climax approaches, the entire shebang ups stumps to Jamaica, where Jimmy Cliff makes a cameo appearance, and the hero's buddy (David) delivers a conciliatory speech about the native kids being driven to crime by their deprived upbringing. An ugly movie, with lousy wardrobe to match.