You really are there when a helicopter lands on top of the camera and when American teenagers dabble in freebase logic. That's the power of Traffic, Steven Soderbergh's indictment of the drug trade. He tells three stories in a logical, yet novel way with separate colour schemes. All intersect, all are connected and no individual gets away clean (as the film's poster states very clearly).

Each thread ends up characterized in a very specific hue, either natural, golden or blue. Rather than jarring the eye, this creates a meaningful mood like shiny textures inside a diamond. The film offers some priceless gems: meaty, brooding performances (especially from Benicio Del Toro and Miguel Ferrer); highly original editing and imaginative screenwriting by Stephen Gaghan, which takes welcome delight in the incidental.

Those unfamiliar with the name Tomas Milian will soon discover an unerringly brilliant talent. He plays General Salazar, a man with many secrets. On the exterior, he seems perfectly respectable, wanting to bring down heavy duty drug players. Dig deeper and there's a well of corruption and deceit in his heart.

Admittedly, the Mexican sequences offer greater clarity than the surrounding tissue. However, just as the cold blue Michael Douglas segments become stagnant, editor Stephen Mirrione cuts back to sizzling Tijuana. He saves the film from ending up in a sloppy rut.

Traffic does aggravate me on some levels. For instance, I can't escape the feeling that with some extra trimming the first act would soar like the final hour. The key thing may be: fewer speeches, more visual storytelling.

Del Toro sort of works against his co-stars because he's not attention-seeking like Luis Guzman or Don Cheadle. These two add some playful banter to Traffic, while the former simply lives moment to moment, finding quieter ways to express the pain and anguish lurking in his soul.

(Released by USA Films and rated "R" by MPAA.)