Film: Jesscia Kellgren-Hayes
Good in the hood
Straight Outta Compton, the story of pioneering LA gangsta rappers NWA is one of the most potent rags-to-riches showbiz films I have ever seen. The handheld camerawork and frenetic detail of the piece give the sense of a warzone as immediate as Zero Dark Thirty or Fury.
The film’s story is made even more powerful by having been co-produced by the now-billionaire main members of the NWA. That is, ‘the story of the film’ not the ‘story’ of the film. There is an inherent conflict of interest with biopics of living musicians. The creators need to be on board in order for the songs that made them noteworthy to be included but bringing them in means they must end the film as heroes or at least the end must justify the terrible ways they have behaved. As such, the second half of the film is bloated with sanctification. It is the first half of the film, full of inspiration and exuberance, to which I refer in my first sentence!
Director F Gary Grey’s two and a half hour opus, about the birth of gangsta rap on the west coast of America, crosses cultural boundaries to create a universal underdog story. Set in the late 1980s, in the poor and drug-addled neighbourhoods of LA, we follow three young friends with special talents. Eric ‘Easy-E’ Wright (Jason Mitchell) is a low level drugs runner with passion, his friend Andre ‘Dr Dre’ Young (Corey Hawkins) is a skilled DJ and they’re joined by talented teen poet O’Shea ‘Ice Cube’ Jackson (played by his son O’Shea Jackson Jr). Their lives are a series of indignities and confrontations; with the police who belittle their manhood and with older black men, who put their own pride first. Every scene concerns intense negotiations for power and dignity.
Which is where the music comes in: these young men become visibly proud when they make music. They know they’re good, they know they have something and they know it is their way out. The film goes some way to explaining the obscene, vainglorious and incendiary rhymes that fill rap music. By proclaiming their power, they become powerful.
These three men (and assorted hangers on, whom everyone seems to forget about very quickly) chase breakthrough after breakthrough. The naked ladies and conspicuous consumption – so many gold chains! – are not a by-product of their newfound celebrity. They are the whole point. Making money and boasting about it is their art form. Rapping is just a way to do that. Yet, they will never be truly comfortable, they will never feel that what they have is enough – and that is a tale we can all relate to.
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