Starring Alex Rice, Simon Baker, J R Bourne, and Katharine Isabelle. Rating unavailable.

This cautionary tale of life at the bottom features some terrific acting and considerable compassion for the down-and-outers who scramble for survival in Canada's poorest postal code: our own Downtown Eastside.

Cast standout Alex Rice, the only non-Canuck here among a largely aboriginal cast, plays Angel, a part-time hooker and full-time junkie. Adept at juggling johns, dealers, and riffraff with cynical aplomb, she appears untouched by the degradation around her, or her own steady decline.

If there's anything wrong with Rice's performance, it's that she looks a little too healthy for her lifestyle. That's not the case with young Katharine Isabelle, who is covered with scabs and bruises as Stacey Lee, a pal who lives in the same fleabag hotel where many of the addicts hole up--the real-life Portland hotel, where Vancouver writer-director Nathaniel Geary used to work. Stacey lives with a local scumbag (convincing J R Bourne) who thinks he's her pimp but is really only looking for enough scratch to get his next chunk of crack.

Into this less-than-cozy scene comes Randy (Simon Baker), Angel's fresh-faced little brother who has run away from home, also looking for what he hopes will be big-city glamour. Sis reluctantly lets him crash in her tiny room but eventually moves him over to slightly larger digs with an older man (Gordon Tootoosis) who has renounced drugs and alcohol for a more dignified, if still punishing, life collecting cans and bottles. But this career choice is too tame for Randy, who gets drawn into increasingly dangerous street games.

Geary's settings and scenarios have the ring of harsh reality, but the overall plot arc is numbingly familiar. Everyone here is headed for a fall, and the thuds come with increasing frequency toward the end, with several characters checking out altogether, and in very creepy ways. The problem is that virtually every scene involves conflict between these characters, and the onslaught of confrontations, usually unresolved, proves wearying. Dramatically, a rhythm of fight-and-flight sets in early and doesn't let up.

In real life, these characters would also be ill-educated, inarticulate trauma victims, and Geary doesn't condescend to them. But neither does he allow them personal interests or aspirations. There's no sense of what Angel would have been like if she stayed in "Rupert" or what Randy would do with some better breaks in life, because no one ever discusses anything other than the worst problem at hand.

The director also ends on a perfect shot and then blows it by turning his restlessly hand-held camera around to see Angel sobbing in an excruciating close-up. Thanks, but maybe we'd rather feel things for ourselves.