The drug is called SQUID, and it was developed, we learn, for the feds, to replace the wiretap. (SQUIDs are skeletal, remote headsets that can be easily concealed beneath a wig or bandanna.) Naturally, a device this cool would hit the blackmarket, and Lenny entices his clientele with promises of X-rated headtrips. (This makes sense: with each home entertainment advancement comes a new way to distribute porn.)

Lenny spends his off-hours pining for Faith (Lewis), the singer who left him for a repulsive record producer named Philo Gant (Michael Wincott). Lenny "jacks in" to his taped memories of Faith via SQUID playback, and we see him fondling the air around him, eyes closed, as if she were actually there. Things get messy when he receives a SQUID that leads him to believe that Faith might be in danger; when Lenny warns her, Faith and Philo take it as another of his pathetic attempts to win her back. "I don't need rescuing," Faith screams at Lenny over the background music at a local club, but Lenny doesn't listen.

Instead, he asks Mace (Bassett) for help. Mace is a single mother with an attitude. She drives a limo for a living, but looks like she'd rather be practicing her left hook on a side of beef. Mace is a hell of a lot stronger than Lenny is, and Lenny knows it. She's also in love with him, and he doesn't know that.

These characters live in a Los Angeles overrun by gang violence and crooked cops. A Rodney King-type figures heavily into the plot--the murder of Jeriko One, a controversial, black rap star, by L.A.'s finest, may have some indirect connection to Lenny's business. Lenny roams this world a conman: he carries a briefcase full of fake Rolexes and writes cheques that we presume will bounce. He spouts continuous streams of bullshit, hot air and empty promises, which get him routinely pulverized by thugs.

I am annoyed that Lenny doesn't have a little more street cred, and that the movie keeps telling us how wimpy he is, because it renders Lenny's backstory that much more unbelievable. We're to understand that Lenny was a cop--that's how he met Mace, when he babysat her kid as the abusive men in her family were being hauled away. Surely one has to possess some basic fighting skills to survive the beat in L.A.. I also take issue with Lenny's hair, which is long and greasy both when he's hawking his wares and when we see him in flashback as a uniformed officer.

More peeves: the movie takes place on the last two days of a 1999 in which widescreen TVs are ubiquitous (I can understand Lenny owning one, but the local watering holes, too?), and neon appears to be the only light source the city has to offer. The movie also predates Y2K paranoia (aka The Millenium Bug) by about two years, so you can't exactly hold the film at fault for not raising the issue, but the absence of its mention is definitely felt.

There's a reason I like Strange Days, though: it leaves me physically exhausted, every time. Bigelow puts us through the wringer with a wildly flowing camera and unflinching violence. Her approach is exploitive and effective for it. It may surprise those unfamiliar with Bigelow (Near Dark, Point Break) that a woman directed this film; I dare say that fact is made obvious during the rape scene, which forces us to confront the victim in close-up. It's a SQUID shot, and doesn't cut away to the man, thereby disallowing us to only imagine the woman's grief. (Most rape scenes directed by men stay focused on the aggressor, for reasons I have yet to fully synthesize.)

The picture's second half is uneven, with Lenny cracking incongruous jokes and a preachy, attenuated climax that could have used one more pass through a typewriter. That's why Strange Days loses some of its flavour upon repeat viewings, but those in the mood for a feverishly-paced, pre-millenial thriller will want to jack-in to it at least once.

Strange Days was released on Laserdisc in 1996 as an SE of sorts, and the majority of its content has been recycled for this DVD. (Thank goodness, after the omission of such supplemental material on Fox's Romeo + Juliet.) Unfortunately, the LD's transfer has been rehashed, too. While THX-certified, DVD reveals its shortcomings. Letterboxed at 2.35:1 (not enhanced for anamorphic displays), the image is not soft (I expected to see more grain, because the movie was shot on high speed, Super35 stock), while the few daylight scenes seem to indicate that edge enhancement has been performed. Flesh tones are strong, though much of the time people's faces are awash in Cameron-esque blues, anyway. Contrast is this disc's biggest problem--blacks and whites have poor range. Not a travesty by any means, however--most DVD reviewers are quite pleased by it, in fact.

The Dolby Digital 5.1 track on this disc is sensational, featuring the most gimmicky use of surrounds of any DVD in my collection: during the SQUID sequences, the voice of the person wearing the device eminates from only the rear speakers. I recall people turning their heads during these sequences in the theatrical presentation, mistaking said voices for obnoxious moviegoers, and the effect has been spectacularly reproduced for home video. Basses are deep but not too boomy--once or twice, I was caught off guard by a thud. The crowd noise at film's end is surprisingly full--cheering tends to sound shrill when compressed for DVD. A 2.0 Surround track is the default mix.

On yet another track, Kathryn Bigelow discusses for the first forty-five minutes of the picture how she and her crack team accomplished the breathtaking opening sequence, a single subjective shot that ends with its photographer plummeting to his death. It was a greater technical challenge than anyone may realize until listening to her speech. (Note that her commentary does not begin until this "blackjack" sequence is over.) The DVD also contains two deleted sequences (one that needlessly shows us the rape a second time), plus the (fantastic) teaser and theatrical trailers. Disappointingly, the latter two are not in 5.1. Image quality ranges on these extras from good to extremely poor--one of the cut scenes survived only in second- or third-generation videotape form. The studio opted not to include the storyboards, production stills, or Skunk Anansie's music video for "Selling Jesus", which rounded out the LD package.-Bill Chambers