Notorious
Directed by George Tillman Jr.
Starring Jamal Woolard, Derek Luke and Anthony Mackie
***
Musical biopics tend to follow a similar series of beats and Notorious, which recounts the life and premature death of rapper Christopher Wallace a.k.a. The Notorious B.I.G. a.k.a. Biggie Smalls, is no exception. Like Ray and Walk the Line before it, the film takes a greatest-hits approach to its subject’s life story, condensing his rise to fame, fall from grace and steps towards redemption into an easily digestible narrative that entertains, but rarely enlightens.
Starting at the end of Biggie’s life—specifically on the evening of March 9, 1997 when he was gunned down while being driven back to his L.A. hotel—Notorious then rewinds the clock back to the early ’80s when a young Chris (played by the rapper’s own son Christopher Jordan Wallace) is rapping along to Kurtis Blow’s “The Breaks” in a Brooklyn schoolyard. Growing up under the strict eye of single mother Voletta (Angela Bassett), the overweight, slightly dorky boy decides early on that he’s not going to be anybody’s fool. By age 17 (at which point real-life rapper Jamal “Gravy” Woolard takes over the role), Wallace is cutting class to sell drugs on street-corners and participating in amateur rap battles a la 8 Mile. It takes an extended stint in the slammer to convince him that he needs to pursue music seriously as a career. Enter Sean Combs (Derek Luke), a loud-talking hustler-turned mini-music mogul who sees dollar signs the first time he meets the man that will become Biggie.
From here, screenwriters Reggie Rock Bythewood and Cheo Hodari Coker (who wrote the biography that the film is primarily based on) race through the events that take Wallace to the top of the charts. Through the sheer force of his larger-than-life personality, he turns hostile crowds into screaming fans and attracts a bevy of new friends (such as Tupac Shakur, played here by Anthony Mackie) and lovers (like Kimberly Jones—better known as Lil’ Kim—played by Naturi Naughton). He’s also a force of nature in the studio, creating an entire track (“Juicy” the lead single off his seminal debut album Ready to Die) in the course of a single, marijuana-laced recording session.
The “rise to fame” chapter is generally the most enjoyable section of any musical biopic and its handled particularly well here. GIANT’s EIC Emil Wilbekin, who has worked with many of the musicians seen in the movie including the B.I.G. man himself, praised the film’s loving depiction of New York’s mid-’90s hip-hop scene in his review and it’s worth repeating that the filmmakers have done a good job recreating that era for both the viewers that lived through it and those who moved to the Big Apple post-Biggie. Director George Tillman Jr. shot the film in a lightning quick 38 days largely in Wallace’s home borough of Brooklyn and while the short production schedule is sometimes too apparent in the interchangeable locations and jagged camerawork, the pace mirrors the speed of life in the go-go ’90s when New York seemed like a place where anyone with a dream and the drive to pursue it could become a star.
The other reason this section of the film succeeds is because it provides us with a complex depiction of the individual that was Christopher Wallace. Far from worshipping the man, the filmmakers put his vices front and center alongside his attributes: he loves his mom, but he lies to her; he promises the women in his life that he’s “got them,” but unapologetically enjoys one-night stands with groupies; he raps about representing his ‘hood, but he’s primarily interested in representing his own interests, financial and otherwise. You want to see him succeed because of his talent, but don’t be surprised if you also catch yourself thinking, “Man, this guy is an asshole.”
Where Notorious stars to falter is in its second half, largely because the story becomes bigger than Biggie. In order to understand why Wallace was gunned down, one has to understand what was happening in the rap industry at that time, specifically the feud between the East and West coasts. And this is an area where the filmmakers seem afraid to tread in any great detail. Viewers who walk into the film with a working knowledge of the larger events occurring around Biggie during that period will be able to fill in the blanks, but the uninitiated may find themselves wondering why exactly this so-called “war” started.
One major casualty of Notorious‘ loose grasp on the details surrounding the East Coast/West Coast rivalry is the person that was at the center of it: Tupac. Based on this movie, you’d never know that Shakur was a groundbreaking recording artist, who had been making hit tracks well before Biggie entered the scene. Instead he comes across like a bald dude who kept popping up at random intervals to give Wallace some words of encouragement. The film’s depiction of the friends’ falling-out is also suspect as it essentially clears Biggie of any wrongdoing and makes Tupac out to be some kind of paranoid whack job. No doubts rights issues are the primary reason Shakur has such a diminished presence in the movie–we never hear any of his music or learn much about his personal life–but the absence of this material makes it feel as if we’re only getting half the story.
Perhaps the most disappointing thing about the final act of Notorious is the way it abandons the objectivity towards its subject that distinguished the opening hour of the film. In the wake of Tupac’s murder by assailants the film declines to and his own injury in a bad car accident, the filmmakers would like us to believe that Biggie set his mind towards reforming himself. Before and during his final, fateful trip to L.A., we’re shown numerous scenes of him mending his relationships with various friends and family members and informing Combs that he intends to take his music in a different, more positive direction. The movie actually ends with Voletta telling us in a voiceover that she believes her son finally “became a man” right before his death. While I’m sure that the real Mrs. Wallace (who is a credited producer on the film along with Combs) firmly believes that, in the context of the film, it comes across as an easy way for Tillman and the screenwriters to tack on an uplifting Hollywood ending onto a story that’s not exactly happy. (Plus, as some music writers have already pointed out, it’s not like Biggie started rapping about sunshine and flowers in his final days; his posthumous second album Life After Death contains a number of tracks that deal with violence and the unfortunate fate that possibly awaits him. “My Downfall” anyone?)
In the end, the glue that holds the unwieldy two halves of Notorious together is Woolard. No doubt the novice actor (to say nothing of the filmmakers) spent many sleepless nights wondering if he had the skills to due Biggie justice, but whatever off-screen worries he had don’t register in his vivid performance. Truth be told, his lack of training was probably more of a benefit than a liability. He never seems to be thinking to himself “How would Biggie do this?” He just does it. That sets him apart from many of the other, more experienced actors in the cast, who never seems as comfortable in the skin of the person they’re meant to be portraying. I’m specifically thinking of the usually reliable Derek Luke and Angela Bassett here; it’s difficult to see anything of the real Sean Combs in Luke’s bland turn, while Bassett brings little energy or enthusiasms to her underwritten role as a stern, but loving parental figure. Next to Woolard, the film’s strongest performer is probably Nauri Naughton, who does an excellent job portraying Kimberly Jones’ gradual transformation into Lil’ Kim. (Interestingly, the real Jones has been badmouthing the film in the press recently, claiming that her version of events is very different. Anyone wanna bet how long it’ll be until we see Notorious 2: K.I.M.?)
Considering the hurdles the filmmakers faced in getting the movie made, we should be glad that Notorious turned out better than anyone could have expected. At the same time, the film’s strengths makes its omissions and contrivances that much more apparent. The truth is, it’ll probably be at least another decade before we get the definitive movie about Biggie, Tupac and the whole ’90s rap industry and you better believe that film won’t be overseen by Sean Combs and Voletta Wallace.
Verdict: See It
