Okay, I understand that these films are just glorified adverts for BMW, but oy what a stinker. The plot, which appears to be written by first-year film students who've seen too many Tarantino films (is there any other kind?), concerns James Brown meeting with the devil to ask for another fifty years of life. Or something. I don't know, the director just couldn't use enough jump-cuts and whip-pans. Or maybe the cameraman was having a seizure. You be the judge. Plus, subtitles float by every other line or so. I'm convinced this is because the director knew there was no way in hell people were going to understand what James Brown was saying, but to keep from hurting his feelings they threw in occasional subtitles for other characters as well. All of whom are perfectly understandable, except for Gary Oldman, who plays the devil (just like Jimmy Carl Black said, with an English accent). Either Gary snorted a mound of coke that would give Scarface pause before shooting, or he made a bet with somebody that he could chew more scenery than a rabid wolverine. He shows up and has his little mumble-off with the Godfather of Soul while the camera spins wildly, as if desperately trying to make what's going on interesting. Danny Trejo, officially the Scariest Motherfucker On Our Planet Or Any Other, is thrown in for texture as the devil's right-hand dude.

So it all comes down to a street race to grant James' wish: he (or rather, his driver, who's one of those British guys who's dressed similarly in every film he's in, ergo I forget all about him) has to beat the devil's muscle car with his BMW. You know where this is going. The race starts off in Vegas, or Mars, or someplace, then ends up in the desert where James Brown first "sold his soul" back in 1954. James yells phrases from his songs like "Get on the good foot!" to his driver, which you know couldn't have been his idea. Gary Oldman clambers out of his car's sunroof and inexplicably turns into Bat Boy from the Weekly World News. James "Free To Run People Down" Brown wins the race by a hair, utilizing our proud nation's railways in a way that was original when it was in that Steve McQueen movie from the year 1410. The film is, after all, directed by Tony Scott, a name synonymous with that of Michael Bay, or Jerry Bruckheimer, or testicular cancer, or gorilla excrement. So you know there's gonna be flying sportscars and explosions.

Believe it or not, the only redemption for this thing comes at the end, thanks to an appearance by Marilyn Manson. I'm not going to tell you what it is, because it is really funny and does sort of make the film worth seeing. Check it out if you have a craving for crap.