Market saturation and ever-declining quality crippled the blaxploitation movement despite its groundbreaking, influential start with such films as Shaft, Superfly, and Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song. A similar pattern seems to be developing within the mostly direct-to-video world of rapsploitation, except that the genre's seminal efforts, such as Master P's I'm Bout It, set the bar so low that even The Eastsidaz and Insane Clown Posse's Big Money Hustlas look good by comparison. Inexplicably letterboxed—no doubt at the behest of details-obsessed cinephile Shaggy 2 Dope—Hustlas stars Dope and Violent J as renegade clown-make-up enthusiasts on opposite sides of the law. Dope plays a legendary rhyming big-city cop out to clean up the streets of New York City; J plays a trigger-happy crime boss who rules the Big Apple with an iron fist. At first, Dope's efforts prove successful, but he grows disheartened after J sends magical ninjas to kill his grotesquely obese stripper girlfriend. Only a visit from Dolemite's ghost (an amusing Rudy Ray Moore) keeps him from throwing in the towel. Self-indulgent, puerile, and amateurish, Big Money Hustlas is an affectionate Dolemite homage/parody filtered through the proudly tasteless prism of a Troma campfest. First-time director John Cafiero uses memorable transitions, bright colors, and cartoonish characters to give the movie a strangely cheerful feel, like Andrew Dice Clay's Playhouse. But Hustlas' enthusiastic vulgarity can only keep it bearable for so long, and at an excruciating 97 minutes, it wears out its welcome several times over. The film is aimed squarely at ICP diehards, for whom Dope's first onscreen swig of Faygo is likely to take on near-mythic significance, and, while it's difficult to imagine anyone else enjoying it, it should suit the duo's easy-to-please fans just fine. While Big Money Hustlas' credits list both a screenwriter and a whopping 10 credits for additional dialogue (including such noted scribes as Shaggy 2 Dope and The Monoxide Child), Tha Eastsidaz's flashy titles fly by without a single writing credit. Of course, it's possible that a screenwriter was simply too ashamed to accept even pseudonymous credit, but, judging from the film's making-it-up-as-we-go-along quality, it's likelier that Snoop Dogg and his associates viewed a script as an unnecessary indulgence. Dogg makes his long-overdue feature-length starring debut as a kingpin who presides over his army of thugs from a lavish mansion inexplicably decorated with platinum albums and Death Row posters. Dogg's reign as head honcho comes to an abrupt end, however, after Goldie Loc (also of Tha Eastsidaz) frames him for murder, taking over his criminal empire while Dogg plots revenge in prison. Directed by Michael Martin (I Got The Hook Up), Tha Eastsidaz is typical rapsploitation fare, complete with nonexistent production values, indecipherable and often inaudible dialogue, and prominently billed but near-subliminal cameos from rap stars (Xzibit, Warren G, Tash) eager to appear in a film without having to memorize any lines. Still, Tha Eastsidaz is at least comprehensible and coherent—don't ever take that for granted in this genre—and certainly more watchable than most of Master P's output. Rapsploitation movies are ultimately critic-proof: Viewers don't seek them out for their gripping plots or cinematic audacity, but for the chance to see their favorite artists in what vaguely resembles a movie. By those almost impossibly modest standards, both films deliver the goods.