Considering the megaton-bomb-sized disaster this could've been, Notorious is a much better film than expected. The problem areas are certainly there, some tough to shake off despite the best efforts to just sit back and enjoy. But what the Biggie biopic does so well is entertain, balancing a steady score of his classic tracks with surprisingly strong and convincing performances from nearly all involved. Full disclosure: I went in anticipating the worst, forming a too-early judgment, based off those truly terrible-looking clips that popped up on MTV.com, so the bar was lower than Wall Street's morale from the opening scene. But as the movie progressed and I noticed my senses acutely pleased, I thought to myself: By George, I think they've got it.
The bulk of my praise goes to one Jamal "Gravy" Woolard, the previously-lame mixtape rapper who's basically given his career ten spark plugs' worth of juice with his portrayal of one Christopher Wallace. His pedigree is clearly just right: from the same Bed-Stuy section of Brooklyn; a rapper himself; and packing looks that give the impression of one-too-many trips to Mickey Ds. I'd never seen the guy give any on-camera interviews before this, so who the hell knows if he's genuinely charismatic. But here, he makes for one hell of a presence. Likeable, charming, rugged, and vulnerable, Woolard comes about as close as I'd imagine any overweight Brooklynite ever could to embodying the borough's patron saint. Especially nailing Biggie's voice. Clearly, Woolard studied the shit out of Biggie sound bytes, because every cadence and droll, breathy tone gives you the impression that you're indeed hearing B.I.G himself. I didn't think Woolard, a first-time actor, would be able to carry the movie on his pudgy shoulders, but he's slapped my doubts into shape.
The same goes for several other of the cast, namely the great Angela Bassett as his mother, Volletta Wallace. Giving the appropriate spaces between each word, Bassett, like Woolard, sounds just like the woman, and her scenes with Woolard show off some nice mother/son chemistry. The bit where she throws his out cocaine stash thinking it was leftover mashed potatoes brushed under his bed is a good touch, too. A similarly commanding presence of estrogen comes from Antonique Smith, another big-screen newbie who plays Faith Evans. The rapport and puppy love moments between Faith and Big come off rather real, due to the believable back-and-forth between Smith and Woolard, whether she's beatboxing her way into his heart or beating the ever-living piss out of some blonde groupie she's caught in bed fucking her husband.
Kudos should be also be awarded to Naturi Naughton's breasts, which feature prominently here and are quite the horndog sight. The reason why her boobies deserve such recognition: according to Notorious, Lil Kim was nothing more than a Biggie-obsessed sex fiend. Not a good look for Kim, though Naughton does her best to make the hoodrat-gone-legit-but-still-a-freak a ticking heart. But in the end, Kim comes across as a sideline ho too emotionally penetrable to handle Biggie's player ways. Who's to say she wasn't that way? Still, I'd love to hear Kim's own thoughts. Too bad she's the one person who's deadset against Notorious, and has opted to never watch the film. Can't blame her...what woman would jump at the chance to see herself riding a man's johnson with ferocity on the big screen, or having that same man violently push her against a recording booth's wall while calling her a "bitch" in a fit of rage?
Keeping the not-so-good portrayals in mind, Anthony Mackie's work as 2Pac is a total misfire. Never for one second did I believe that dude was Pac; it's not even worth singling out specific nuances that were off, because Mackie (a damn good actor in any other situation) just isn't Pac, and bares no resemblances, physical or essential, to the man. A lack of physicality alone wouldn't be a thing---take Derek Luke in the Puff Daddy role, for instance. Looks absolutely nathan like Puff, but still captures the bombastic confidence of the man, as well as the laughably-hokey on-stage dance moves. It's all in the essence for Luke's take on Puff. Mackie, though, doesn't transcend any further than the Pac-bandana he sports.
Skim over the film's credits, and you'll see that the following heads all watched over the production closely: Diddy, Faith, Lil Cease (who never looks older than 11 years old, in a distractingly hilarious "get the fuck out of here" actor choice), and Mark Pitts (Big's manager, who acts as a calm, cool backbone in the film's narrative). Having those who knew and loved the man act as supervisors makes sense, in theory---their presence allows for a good amount of factual awareness, and (theoretically) prevents Big's legacy from being represented in shitty fashion. And that's fortunately the end result here, but in hindsight, the film's biggest flaw is the flick's overall "la di da" attitude. Diddy, for example, comes off as the cleanest, most philosophic man alive, rather than a man who suffers from characters snafus just like the rest of us.
But where's Biggie's sordid side affair with Charli Baltimore? And were the in-studio jumpoffs that inspired Biggie to write "Juicy" by blowing him and diking out on his lap while naked really busty perfect-10 pinups? Why not at least briefly show Biggie's motivation behind assembling Junior M.A.F.I.A., the most tell-tale evidence of his loyalty and kind-hearted nature toward his friend?
At times, Notorious comes off too much like Biggie's Greatest Hits rather than a fluid story. It can't beasy condensing a man's life into a compact two-hour film, so why not just focus on his recording artist years? By glossing over his father-less, from-bookish-student-to-street-corner-hustler earlier years Notorious doesn't give his upbringing enough room to breath.
These are all nitpicks of a too-sensitive moviegoer, truthfully. I'm willing to bet half of my DVD collection that middle America, and the millions of casual Notorious B.I.G. fans worldwide, will have a great, moving time with this one. It touches on all the highlights that they've heard about, and includes enough of his bigger radio hits to keep heads nodding and nostalgia flowing. But for those who really knew the man (myself obviously not included in the slightest) or have had the luxury of speaking with former associates and reading every published music magazine piece about him (myself included here, naturally), though, Notorious leaves too many questions and raised eye-brows in its wake to be considered a total success.
In a world where rapper biopics have been non-existent, however, even a sufficient success is more than welcome. I'd totally see Notorious again, and that's saying something, isn't it? I can't help but be thankful for the film; without it, I wouldn't be sitting here feeling the re-energized "I love hip hop" sensation that I'm basking in as I type. Notorious has so many great small touches that should instantly bring smiles to the faces of purists who evolved as rap lovers during the early-to-mid-1990s: watching Lil Kim reveal her rap skills to Biggie by spitting along with Buckshot to Black Moon's "Who Got Da Props?"; seeing Biggie piss off Mark Pitts by rapping the opening bars from "Unbelievable" rather than some radio-friendly jargon that'd sound fitting atop the Mtume "Juicy Fruit" sample.
Here's one flick where I'm totally cool with turning my critical eye off and simply enjoying the ride. Hopefully it pulls in some heavy bank, because what I'd truly love to see, even more so than a Biggie movie, is a Tupac Shakur biopic. That'd make for a way more compelling/enlightening/infuriating/dramatic experience, if you ask me.
.jpeg)
No comments:
Post a Comment