At the beginning of the film, a bitchy negro named Mr. Patterson (Louis Murray) that works for the city mayor severely internally wounds Bobby by calling him a “little kike,” thus initiating the first step in the protagonist's rather tragic path of personal transformation of the racially oriented sort that ultimately ends in abject failure. Since the FBI botched busting a negro dope dealer and killer named Robert Randolph (Ving Rhames) in a night raid that resulted in the deaths of two FBI agents, Bobby and his partner Tim have been assigned to locate him since they are already fairly familiar with him. Unfortunately while on the way to grab Randolph’s cousin, Bobby happens upon a murder scene in a black ghetto where an elderly Jewess was mysteriously killed during an armed robbery. According to some ebonics literate negroid children, the old Jewess was murdered because of supposed secret treasure in the basement of her store. When a black officer arrives on the scene, he practically blames the Jewess for getting liquidated since she had no business operating a store in an all-negro ghetto neighborhood. Needless to say, Bobby is more than a little bit irked when the dead Hebrewess’ outstandingly arrogant doctor son Dr. Klein (J.S. Block)—a virtual posterboy for Nazi propaganda as far as grotesque Jewish caricature are concerned who immediately complains of an antisemitic conspiracy in regard to his mother's death—uses his kosher clout to make him work on his dead mother’s murder case. Indeed, instead of having the honor of busting ghetto arch-criminal Randolph and swaggering around like a big bad hero, Bobby has to suffer the whiny and hysterical paranoia of a family of opulent Jews that he just cannot stomach as they clearly remind him of the negative qualities that he hates in himself, not to mention the fact that they have way more money than he does.
After getting extremely annoyed with the Jews, Bobby goes to a room and vents out his frustration to his partner Tim over the phone, stating in an almost wildly excited fashion, “I’m stuck here with my – my Jews. You should see this fuckin’ room […] Fuckin’ bullshit. Bunch of high-strung fuckin’ bullshit. They pay so much taxes – Fuck ‘em […] Don’t send the old lady work down there and tell me how you’re so surprised. Fuck ‘em and the taxes they pay. You tell me. Ten more bucks a week they’re making’, lettin’ her [dead Jewess] work down there? Ha! Hey, not my people, baby. Fuck ‘em. There’s so much antisemitism the last 4,000 years. . .we must be doin’ somethin’ [to] bring it about.” Unbeknownst to Tim, Dr. Klein’s daughter Miss Klein (Mamet’s wife Rebecca Pidgeon) was in the room and heard the entire conversation. While Bobby immediately attempts to apologize, Miss Klein immediately verbally reams him by passionately declaring, “My grandmother was kill today. She stayed down there because she wanted to stay there. She was a fighter. She wanted to die there. She died there. You’re a Jew, and you talk that way in the house of the dead. Do you have any shame? […] Do you hate yourself that much? Do you belong nowhere?” After swearing to Miss Klein that he will “find her killer” in regard to her dead grandfather, Bobby hears a gunshot and immediately investigates the roof of the building where he finds a torn piece of paper that reads “Grofaz.” That same night, Bobby also discovers that the elderly dead Jewess used to be a Zionist terrorist that was involved in gunrunning, among other things. At this point, Bobby begins to speculate that there is indeed some sort of antisemitic conspiracy and soon finds himself engulfed in a sort of quasi-Kafka nightmare of obscene obsession and paranoia that inspires in him an ultimately rather untimely Jewish awakening of sorts.
In what proves to be a symbolic common occurrence for the protagonist that demonstrates that he is a shitty cop that lacks the marital prowess to fight bad guys, Bobby manages to lose his gun while making his descent and is thus naturally immediately shot when he finally reaches Randolph, who acts rather smug and mocks him for losing his gun. When Randolph asks the protagonist if he wants to beg for his life, Bobby pathetically replies, “It’s not worth anything.” When Bobby makes the quasi-suicidal mistake of claiming to Randolph that his mother sold him out to the cops, the negro copkiller shoots him again and calls him a “piece of shit,” to which the injured protagonist replies while in glaring pain, “I am a piece of shit. I killed my partner, and your mama turned you in.” When Bobby proves to Randolph that his mother sold him out by showing him a bogus passport that the police procured for the specific purpose of busting him, the trigger-happy negro outlaw is so stunned that he does not even notice when a couple cops show up and blow him away with a couple bullets. After being shot, Randolph’s body lands on Bobby and he states while lying on the wounded Jew, “God. God help me. What did you do to me?”
In what ultimately proves to be quite bitter biting irony for the protagonist, Bobby learns in the end that there was never any sort of antisemitic conspiracy and that elderly Jewess Klein was actually killed by the very same young preteen negro boys who proclaimed at the crime scene that she was killed for mythical treasure in her basement. Additionally, the ‘grofaz’ paper that Bobby found on the Klein’s roof was not in reference to Uncle Adolf but a pigeon feed company called ‘Grofazt.’ On top of everything else, Bobby is kicked off of homicide and is immediately regulated to a stereotypical Jewish position of abstract paper-shuffling. Notably, at the beginning of the film, a deranged dude named Walter B. Wells (Colin Stinton) that committed familicide with his trusty hunting rifle made a somewhat strange offer to Bobby by stating, “Perhaps someday I could tell you the nature of evil. Would you like to know how to – to solve the problem of evil?,” but the protagonist declines, stating, “No, man, ‘cause if I did, then I’d be out of the job.” Of course, by the end of the film, Bobby has encountered various forms of evil, including among his own race, but he is hardly capable of destroying it, especially since he himself pathetically succumbed to it.
Although just speculation, I can only assume that Mamet, as a famous and politically active Jew, is perfectly aware of the criminal and conspiratorial nature of rich and powerful Jews and that has instilled him with a certain deep and unwavering sense of paranoia that makes him feel the need to be militant about Zionism lest there be some neo-pogroms or even another shoah. After all, people that are not wracked with guilt do not feel the need to go on the defensive, yet Hollywood incessantly defecates out anti-intellectual holocaust agitprop films that are supposed to make the stupid goyim think that the Jews are history's foremost innocent victim despite all the contemporary (and historical) evidence to the contrary. This might also explain why Jews constantly complain about the holocaust and antisemitism in Hollywood films and TV shows yet virtually never actually create truly Judaic themed works, as if they are afraid of gentiles, especially white Christians, truly understanding the intrinsically racially chauvinistic nature of Judaism and what it truly means to be a Jew in a world full of ostensibly stupid gentiles. Hollywood's curious fear of revealing its innate Jewishness certainly disturbed Ben Hecht, who once complained regarding the complete and utter disappearance of Jews from films of the 1930s and 1940s, “The greatest single Jewish phenomenon in our country in the last twenty years has been the almost complete disappearance of the Jew from American fiction, stage, radio, and movies. . . .And for this false oblivion and for this dangerous exile, the movies are the most to blame.”
Aside from emotionally manipulative holocaust propaganda films featuring good goy protagonist's like Schindler's List (1993), the occasional overt Zionist propaganda film like Otto Preminger's Exodus (1960) and Spielberg's Munich (2005), and the disgusting deluge of semi-cryptically kosher comedies featuring revolting Hebraic hogs like Seth Rogen, Hebrew-owned Hollywood is strangely silent when it comes to addressing its own heritage. As far is films that manage combine genre conventions with Jewish themes, the only thing I can really compare Homicide to is the fairly mediocre fourth season The X-Files episode “Kaddish,” which takes the legend of the Golem from the Kabbalah and transports it to contemporary times in an imaginary antisemitic Brooklyn where a trio of thuggish neo-Nazi proles kill an orthodox Jew for fun after reading one-too-many antisemitic flyers. Needless to say, The X-Files episode is putridly politically correct (in fact, the original antagonists were a Louis Farrakhan-like figure and his negro underlings, but the Fox network were afraid that dindus would get made, so Jewish writer Howard Gordon rewrote the episode to make it more characteristically p.c.). Of course, I doubt any Jew would have the artistic or intellectual integrity to make a film like Homicide nowadays, as it would be politically and financially risky to make a fairly ambiguous intellectual neo-noir that dares to features a group of shadowy scheming Jewish terrorists whose members are a also part of the city's cultural elite. Indeed not unlike the pre-Code Hollywood flick The House of Rothschild (1934), Mamet's film ultimately does more harm to the Judaic cause than good.
Homicide hints at many reasons as to why people hate the Jews, but it never really gets to the heart of the issue, which Friedrich Nietzsche probably summed up best when he wrote in his classic text On the Genealogy of Morality (1887) in regard the decidedly deleterious effect of Jews on the Occident, “Whatever else has been done to damage the powerful and great of this earth seems trivial compared with what the Jews have done, that priestly people who succeeded in avenging themselves on their enemies and oppressors by radically inverting all their values, that is, by an act of the most spiritual vengeance. This was a strategy entirely appropriate to a priestly people in whom vindictiveness had gone most deeply underground. It was the Jew who, with frightening consistency, dared to invert the aristocratic value equations good/noble/powerful/beautiful/happy/favored-of-the-gods and maintain, with the furious hatred of the underprivileged and impotent, that "only the poor, the powerless, are good; only the suffering, sick, and ugly, truly blessed. But you noble and mighty ones of the earth will be, to all eternity, the evil, the cruel, the avaricious, the godless, and thus the cursed and damned!" . . . We know who has fallen heir to this Jewish inversion of values.. . . In reference to the grand and unspeakably disastrous initiative which the Jews have launched by this most radical of all declarations of war, I wish to repeat a statement I made in a different context (BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL), to wit, that it was the Jews who started the slave revolt in morals; a revolt with two millennia of history behind it, which we have lost sight of today simply because it has triumphed so completely.” Indeed, only in a slave-morality-ridden bizarro world dreamed up by Jews could homos, cripples, lard asses, dykes, mongrels, untermenschen, and retards be propped up as the height of moral righteousness while white men—the single greatest contributors to culture, civilization, science, and technology—are the most monstrous.
Undoubtedly, what makes Homicide and Mamet's greatest works most interesting is that they dare to depict harsh realities as opposed to Hollywood bullshit, but I would expect nothing less from a man that once hilariously wrote, “In my lifetime we Jews, mythologically, have served the cause of soft pornography. The world weeps at our being killed. What fun. I wrote, years ago, that Holocaust films are ‘MANDINGO for Jews,’ and that the thrill, for the audience, came and comes from a protected indulgence of anti-Semitism: they get to see us killed and to explain to themselves that they feel bad about.” Of course, Homicide is ultimately a reminder as to why I am not being paranoid when I sense that someone is attempting to emotionally swindle me anytime I see a holocaust movie.