Perhaps imperfect as a neatly tied-up documentary statement, the film raises real contentious questions about ethnic stereotypes, youth, sexuality, and art (kudos for that). But from a purely experiential perspective this is an intense, original, and completely ecstatic trip in both the cultural and aesthetic dimensions. Personally I see nothing compromised or shallow about mixing in a healthy dose of gratuitously beautiful, highly stylized photography for the pure raw aesthetic bliss of it. The film is also quite interesting from an anthropological angle in terms of how the documented phenomenon quickly takes root, consumes these good peoples' identities 24-7, organically grows, divides, mutates, rapidly spans generations and groups, sweeps up even infants who intuitively jack right in to the main line, and seems to strongly channel ancient ancestral rites straight into South Central, where it weaves a crazy web of hope and ecstatic optimism through the beleaguered community like beautiful wildflowers in a cracked asphalt lot. I may just have to start wearing my clown outfit to the office in tribute, but I guess I should work on my moves first. For that I suppose I'll just have to wait for the inevitable krumping class at my local gym! :p