This film is like being cast back into the smoke and arty obscurantism of an open-mike poetry reading in the hippie 1960's. Actually, the action is supposedly set in a sort of mythical 1930's. The narrator of the film is a "blues man" who doubles as an announcer/acrobat at a New Orleans nightclub. He tries to draw us into the smoke rings with labored profundities about life and the blues.
But it's all just too much pretentiousness and strained portentousness. In his basso bourbon voice, the narrator does deliver one or two telling lines, such as "They say the meek inherit the earth. But usually, they just end up under the earth." For the most part though, his utterances are labored reaches after philosophical, dramatic import.
There is no believable plot here - actually no plot at all other than some broad comic-book strokes. There are ruthless villains who seek to control the City by controlling the electrical power supply. There are slinky chanteuses. You have to hope the style will become the story. But since the film is shot through such heavy filters and consequently is so dark and murky that it's hard to see anything on the screen, even the style usually gets lost.
The DVD jacket vaunts the movie for its music - for the blues singers featured on it, such as Etta James. But if you want music, get just the music. Why wade through this pretense of a plot to get there?