I read the above article on Friday and it made me angry. Instead of reviewing the movie, this Guardian journo has taken advantage of the film's release to trot out the same trite arguments against "gangsta" rap* that have been raging since "Straight Outta Compton" in 1988. Yawn. But also, why should Big be compared to Obama? It's a very strangely motivated piece, and I'm sure it strikes a chord with the kind of people who think rap music is the root cause of any ill-doings in the world. And it struck a chord with me for other reasons, even before seeing the movie myself. I imagine that this guy has taken what he's learnt about Big from the film and used that as a basis for his pasting. He certainly hasn't learnt about Biggie from hiphop journalism or even his music (which i doubt this guys actually listened to at all by the way he writes about it- *since when has Biggie's output been considered Gangsta Rap among rap listeners?).
The bit that wound me up about that blog the most is the assumption that if you're a white middle class male listening to rap music, then you get a hard on for "black maverick outlaws" - how about the rap fans that get a hard on for witty word play, cleverly structured rhyme schemes, cold hearted blasts of shock violence, story verses utilising the descriptive word skills of a master poet cramming more into 16 bars than this guy can write in his whole blog? And also what about the assumption that the white male listener will piss his pants in a Black neighboorhood? Huh? That's so racist, i'm surprised the Guardian co-signed this.
Anyway, I watched Notorious on the big screen purely out of my love for Big Poppa with no expectations for it to be biting at the heels of The Godfather or Citizen Kane in the Greatest Movies Of All Time polls. As I'd anticipated it was rubbish, although it had it's redeeming moments: the soundtrack; the guy who played Biggie was ok; the girl who played Kim kicked her verse from Get Money better than Kim ever did herself. But all-in-all the film plays as if it's one of those Channel 5 daytime made-for-tv type joints, with an episodic structure, a plot-crack-papering narration, and acting straight out of a Bed-Stuy amateur dramatic society. For a film which runs to over two hours long there's very little detail in the narrative and even less characterisation. Without background knowledge of events and characters' motivations you'd be floundering - there's no explanation at any point that Tupac is a rapper, for example. Easy-Mo-Bee doesn't make an appearance even once and the East Coast/West Coast drama is lazily summed up by some unintentionally hilarious talking heads. In addition, the unlikely love-triangle between Big, Faith and Kim could have been exploited for some more heavily resonating emotion.
However, the thing that resonates most with this film is how much it runs as if it's Puffy's version of events. Given that this will no doubt be considered the historical document of Biggie's life it's sad to see Puffy selling it so short and painting himself in the best possible light at every possible turn. I know that Big's mum co-signed the movie's script, but watching it you can virtually see Diddy in exec producer role's grubby fingerprints all over the screen.
Which in turn is sad, as it gives twats like the Guardian journo above more ammo in their war against rap music.
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