Strikingly photographed but dramatically inert, Restless City chronicles the story of a young African immigrant trying to make it on the mean streets of New York City. In a bit of a case of the emperor’s new clothes, praise for this art-minded cinematic import recalls Andrew Sarris’ “Russian Tea Room Syndrome,” which posits that sophisticated cineastes will willingly accept in a foreign (or foreign-contextualized) film the sorts of lapses in character and story that in an American film they would utterly reject, basically just for the sake of appearing cultured.

Less explicitly a crime tale than many of the other fringes-of-society/underclass pictures which it glancingly recalls (Tsotsi, Shottas or, say, Viva Riva!), Restless City is kind of like a grimy lost verse of Jay-Z’s “Empire State of Mind” — a movie concerned with locating the maybe quiet nobility in hand-to-mouth existence, and celebrating the struggle for self-betterment and, of course, dollar bills. This is perhaps an admirable pursuit in theory, but it makes for a grinding and ponderous experience as rendered here. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (AFFRM, unrated, 80 minutes)