David Mamet takes a Rocky road with "Redbelt," an action drama inspired by the writer-director's own five years of training under a Brazilian jujitsu master. What intrigues him philosophically is the idea of morally correct behavior in all circumstances, including combat -- especially the combat known as Mixed Martial Arts.

In the mixed martials, vale tudo! (anything goes). With origins in Brazil, it has evolved from a spectacle to a ferocious sport in which fighters must know boxing, wrestling, kickboxing, tae kwon do and jujitsu -- basically, everything but mahjongg.

Which brings us, not a moment too soon, to our poor but pure hero, Mike Terry (Chiwetel Ejiofor), an ace jujitsu instructor who is almost too idealistic for the real world. Mike doesn't do windows, walls, or competitions. He just stays quietly in martial-arts academia, teaching self-defense techniques at his little storefront location in west Los Angeles.

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'Redbelt'

3 stars = Good
Ratings explained

• Starring: Chiwetel Ejiofor, Alice Braga, Emily Mortimer, Tim Allen
• Rating: R for strong language and violence
• Web site: 'Redbelt'

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"You train people to fight?" he is asked.

"No, I train people to prevail," he answers.

But two unlikely people enter his life. The first is lawyer Laura (Emily Mortimer), a nervous wreck with or without her meds. He'll be needing her services soon, in connection with the suicide of one of his students. The second is Hollywood movie star Chet Frank (Tim Allen), whose rear end Mike rescues in a bar fight. That leads to a job offer for Mike on one of Chet's sets.

But in the interim, Mike's wife Sondra (Alice Braga) has turned to loan sharks to pay their bills. She and her sleazy fight-promoter brother get Mike mixed up with assorted other sleazebags (deliciously played by Ricky Jay, David Paymer and Joe Mantegna), all propelling Mike to a prize bout. Debts and desperation force him to fight in the undercard of a big match. Possible purse is $50,000. But the top prize is -- you guessed it -- the Redbelt.

Which is higher than the black, by the way.

Then there's the marble-trick subplot: If a fighter picks a black instead of a white one, he gets handicapped by having one arm tied to his side for the fight. But let's not go there any further.

Ejiofor is terrific as the soulful, stoic embodiment of his own creed: "If you control yourself, you control your opponent." Mamet's direction is fine, as are his characters and dialogue. ("Let's financialize the problem," says one lawyer to another.) The moody cinematography, the Brazilian music and the yarn itself are all engaging.

But this isn't the prolific Mamet's best script; its convoluted plot has flaws.

The unconvincing ending is sly but not Stallone. Or maybe it's that neo-samurai Mixed Martial Arts code of honor that's flawed. You have to commit suicide rather than tell the cops who gave you a hot Rolex?

Never mix, never worry, I always say.