In a timely and troubling expose, filmmaker Ursula Liang's lens follows the racial Balkanization of New York City, and, by extension, the whole of the country—though one rather vainly hopes some of the pathologies here are unique to a rather poisoned Big Apple. It begins with the too-familiar report of an unarmed black man killed by police.
On November 2014, Akai Gurley was fatally shot when he and his girlfriend encountered two New York Police Department officers on "vertical patrol" in a poorly maintained Brooklyn apartment building (the elevator had broken down and the light on the stairs was out). In a twist, however, the rookie officer whose gun discharged "accidentally" was not Anglo, but a Chinese-American, Peter Liang, of Brooklyn. Angry activists and agitators make it out as another case of a "killer cop" taking aim at the black community, but when Liang actually goes to trial for the death—an ultra-rarity for the NYPD—Asian activists claim that one of their own is being unfairly scapegoated. If he were white, he never would have been indicted, goes the logic.
Typically placid Chinese-American citizens take to the streets with protest signs and rally around Liang and his family; while many are energized by finding their voice in the unaccustomed activism, it incurs the wrath of black marchers. Chinese-American neighborhood politicians reach out to the Afro-American side for solidarity but are harshly rebuffed.
The two minority groups, whose bitter experiences with racial injustice would seem to make them natural allies, are shown instead antagonizing other, and black-on-Asian violence soon makes the news (the narrative does not extend to the "Wuhan coronavirus" era, but one suspects that ingrained prejudice against Asian-Americans no more abated than did the police shootings).
In the anger and finger-pointing, the white-hot topic of police reform seems to get lost. One is reminded that Tom Wolfe's Bonfire of the Vanities (the novel, not the semi-infamous film adaptation) was, at heart, a story of racial and class division, where the justice system becomes a travesty of special interests and power plays. A few of the New Yorkers state in front of the camera that this is how the Establishment works, pitting sides against each other.
Disc extras include deleted scenes and one instance of black-Asian cooperation: rappers Pretty Boi G and Chops coming together to record a closing-credit hip-hop lament, "Elephant in the Room." A highly recommended crossover title for collections concerned with crime, social justice, pan-African, and Asian/immigrant topics.