Good As It Hurts

Goody Two Shoes might think twice about benevolence once they get a hold of ace scribbler Richard Price's odyssey of a good Samaritan (Knopf, $25); at the very least they'll be compelled to enroll in a good pain management program. Why? Well, as Mr. Price so poignantly points out: doin' good can hurt.

SamaritanLike hell.

Ray Mitchell, a 12-Stepping Dudley Done Wrong, is hell-bent on doin' right (read: good). Pitched from his precarious perch at an inner city high school, coked- and kicked-out of his starter family, he's fallen from one hack job (New York City cabby) to another (Hollywood TV writer), where he understandably comes to believe anything can happen. Newly flush and in a rush from judgement, this new sober Homer flies back from his fairy tale coop with enough loot to redeem himself, or so he thinks anyway.

A mind less obsessed with one-upping his Higher Power would realize redemption cannot be bought, at any price. Not so this gotta-be-good guy, who can't seem to see the forest for the trees he smacks into; or, in the telling words of his ex: he "confuses making a dent with making a splash." Oblivious, Ray never braces for the job he's about to do on himself.

Back on The Hook (nee Paulus Hook High School), scene of too many memories, the one-fifth Emmy nominee volunteers to teach - what else? - a writing class. Perhaps he believes a little navel gazing will change the cruel world, that all a kid - or he - needs is a new perspective. Whatever the motive, the task is Sisyphean. That Mr. Mitchell's mad money was made penning a TV show (Brokedown High) that exploits the very children he's set out to save only adds weight to the guilty burden of his good intentions.

And then comes the call from Hopewell Houses, the 24 tower low-income housing project where our hero spent his most formative years. Nostalgia, always suspect, pegs Hopewell as a once-proud, color-blind community of well-meaning immigrants; reality assures that neither nostalgia nor the present are bulletproof. But danger doesn't sway Ray, who jumps at a Superman chance to swoop in and save another day.

Meddling into the affairs of a tough-talking dame (Danielle) and her rat-con husband (Freddie Martinez) proves akin to licking kryptonite; as does the simultaneous bankrolling of a former student (Coley, now Salim "What's Mine is Mine" El-Akim) who never met a sucker he didn't punch. But Ray's all giddy with "selfish selflessness"; so giddy in fact he never sees the skullcrack coming.

Of course every hero needs an anti-hero, and Ray's headfirst knock into heaven's door is answered by the infinitely more heroic Detective Nerese Ammons. Nerese (aka "Tweety"), 6 months shy of a Florida pasture, just so happens to be a childhood friend of the Ray; plus, she owes him one, and she sees his misfortune as a perfect end to her career. With the perseverance of a saint, the tempered zeal of a stealth missionary, and the help of a "gagger" with a heart of gold plate (Detective cum P.I. Bobby Sugar), she stoically sets out to make her last stand count.

Being thick and wide and black and female and on her way out of the Job may not endear the good detective to her old boy colleagues, but it does give her the muster to make the case. Further, Nerese's components make for a deliciously refreshing star turn, her glam-free integrity a rather brave, bold stroke in this era of spangled triumph.

As always, Price paints an ultra-vivid picture, both of place (Dempsy, NJ) and of time (near right now); and as always his portraiture is dead on (character rather than caricature). More though, it's the shadow play of the story itself that casts a magnetic pall - and pull - over the proceedings. You're sucked-in from get-go to get-out. Yeah, at times things get a bit Hollywood - with Clockers, Sea of Love, Ransom, and The Color of Money on your resume, how could it not? - but it's far from Tinsel Town. Not so much independent, mind you, as independent-minded, with the kind of happy ending that takes out - and in - everyone within thinking distance. Samaritan is that, er, good. Mind if I say "Ouch"?

Note: This article was first published online in the now defunct Bully Magazine. Supplied with immense thanks to Ken Wohlrob.

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