It’s not often that I get a chill that runs from my spine, to my abdomen, down my arms and into my socks. As a matter of fact, it’s never happened. But on the evening of July 12, it happened.
The independent flick based on the tragic New Year’s Eve events in Oakland, Fruitvale Station, was graphic. It was graphic without much gore whatsoever. It was graphic with absolutely no nudity. It was graphic without much cursing. And it may wind up being one of the best movies of all time.