No sooner has Benjamin Ignatius Samuel Jones, an open-faced country boy from Guyana, set first foot in London than he is relieved of his wallet and a tiny slice of his naiveté. Benjamin is the quintessential bumpkin, holding onto his innocence like a miser, yet so willing to cash it in for love. Eventually, he is adopted by an extended family with murky motives. He is the sheep to be shared and sheared. Under the wing of newfound mentor, Dave, a real pro at con arts, Ben enters the low-brow, lusty haunts of the underclass. Though the ravaged cityscapes, intense poverty and teeming streets in Black Joy harken back to Dickens, the West Indian accents, reggae music and steamy nightlife depict a very contemporary London. Director Simmons gives us the whirling colors and pulsing music of this displaced culture and this, in turn, gives the film an earthy, vigorous feel. But Black Joy has its harrowing side: in this depressed West Indian community, oppressed becomes oppressor, perpetuating the ethos and economics that instigated this joyless cycle. Black Joy doesn't overly stress the point, but it's in the dank streets and roguish faces of the too worldly.