Damon Dash’s foray into filmmaking has proven to be more than a fad. The Roc’sta has gone from hood classics like State Property to the art-house cinema of The Woodsman in just a few short years. Now joining in on the trend of gripping crime documentaries (a la Cocaine Cowboys), Dash joined forces with Marc Levin (Slam) for a look at LeRoy “Nikki” Barnes, the Harlem heroin kingpin who partied hearty till he talked his way out jail after 21 years of time. With controversy still alive, this film’s subject alone is a great discussion piece amidst the “Stop Snitching” movement. Mr. Untouchable, playing into Barnes’ newfound anonymity and onetime legal representation, is a choice flick for those up on their d-boy documentaries.

The film’s sequence is curious. While the A&E Biography crowd might care about Barnes’ childhood, your average school of hard knock student does not. Luckily, Levin leaves that out. However, the rise to power of Barnes is also left untouched – with supporting interviews deeming him “respected” upon leaving prison in his twenties. This leap is hard to follow, but the blemish is covered up with music, a tool used throughout by producer and director. Although his face is never shown (lit anyway), Barnes’ contemporary narrations drive the film’s fervor. Still as cocky as he was in 1976, Barnes, clad in gold jewelry and a tailored suit, tells his story. Former members of his seven-man “council” assist in the telling. Although the council may have reason to be biased under today’s circumstances, they aren’t. “Jazz,” “Scrap” and Barnes’ ex-wife Thelma celebrate Nikki’s virtues and expound on his vices. Against outstanding music from George McRae, Al Green and Bootsy Collins, pictures, presumably from Barnes’ collection help certify what’s being said. The story is presented at a steady and moving pace, but leaps are taken from Barnes’ humble beginnings to his “Mr. Untouchable” status by the bicentennial.

Certain elements are missing though. Known for his invaluable relationship with the Italians, little is said of which family, when, or moreover how. No Italian families or mob relatives comment in the film, leaving Barnes’ most dynamic ability largely untold. Likewise, much of the film footage of 1970s New York appears to be recreated for the film’s purposes. Although instances such as a Mercedes car chase appear visually necessary to the film, slow motion clips of heroin fiends, falling up subway steps in slow motion feel a bit over the top. Equally, the zooming camera to the curves of one of Barnes’ mistresses feels a bit amateur when compared to the extravagant post-production of Cocaine Cowboys or a Michael Moore film. Miniscule details make Mr. Untouchable a bit rough around the edges, as does the disjointed demonian of the “snitch vs. gangster” question, where the film closes.

In whole, one cannot help but wonder if Jay-Z’s involvement and the overall publicity of American Gangster expedited the process of Mr. Untouchable (especially since Barnes knocks Frank Lucas' rural background and practices in his narrative). Still, for fans introduced to Barnes through Nas’ “Get Down,” this film is an edgy, informative and most of all, unbiased look at the ills of drug money, envy, and the power of revenge.