Problem Chylde: Learning & Writing

It’s getting harder and harder for me to write, let alone write full pieces and reviews lately, because of constant stress. I miss writing so much; law school is killing my drive to read and write right now.

But I have to write about the Sean Combs Variety Show I watched last night. The film was so shallow and two-dimensional that I felt physical pain. If Biggie and Tupac (yes, Tupac) were alive and watched what executive producer Sean Combs has wrought, they would team up and beat his dancing opportunist ass.

I used to like Combs. When I was much younger, I had a crush on him not because he was attractive, but because he was powerful in the hip-hop circle. Everyone else liked Ma$e and he bored me lyrically and looks-wise. Ugh. But anyway, even back then, something was not right with Combs’ prevalence in the hip-hop scene, his constant sampling of old hits, and his essential function to screen the shadow hand of Clive Davis and Arista in the formation of mainstream hip-hop on the East Coast. Suge was deplorable in his own right, but at least he was real about how awful the rap game is for mainstreamers.

With all that said, I know Notorious is not supposed to be a documentary; there are other vehicles for all of my quibbles. But it struck me as dishonest to a huge degree. I’m going to try to keep this short:

1. The people who aren’t in the movie are just as important as those who are. We have some very brief glimpses with Craig Mack and a Lil Cease who looks like his growth stunted in the film. But you never see folks like Ma$e, Black Rob or The L.O.X. (gee wonder why hmm) or the Bad Boy Family (a very important part of Biggie’s rise as an artist — his saturation of the market was similar to Lil’ Wayne’s saturation now in terms of song features).

2. The myth of the stupid West Coast rappers/rap game couldn’t be shelved for the sake of this movie, now could it? In order to fill the gap about how to this day we don’t know who shot two great hip-hop icons, we had to watch a shallow resurgence of West-Coast-ain’t-shit posturing, and a cryptic West Coast rivalry shooter take Biggie out.

3. The women in the film might as well have been cartoon characters for all the personality the writers allowed them. Lil’ Kim is so pissed at Biggie, she can’t put on her concert without giving him pissed off looks! Biggie’s momma keeps throwing away the incredibly powdery mashed potato plates underneath his bed, lolol! And don’t get me started on that grotesque thing they put on Faith’s breast after they got married. Okay, I admit; that was funny because that tattoo is notoriously huge. Puns intended.

4. Piggybacking off #3, the movie consistently tried to mitigate/to excuse the abuse Biggie perpetrated against the women in the film. (If you haven’t seen this yet, watch it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPlLdMTSIGg)

5. Oh, Puffy. Sean Combs was so deep in this film and gave Biggie his focus. When Biggie performed in packed houses, the crowd really didn’t go wild until Mr. Combs hit the stage and started wiggle-seizing all over the place. And magical Biggie never needed to write another lyric when he hit the Bad Boy studio. B.I.G.’s only crime as an artist is he partied too much. Womp womp.

6. And piggybacking off that arc, the film is a good depiction of the fact that while Sean Combs can identify when someone has talent, he has no idea of what it takes to be an artist. His true talent lies in marketing; in the end, that’s all this film is.

For the folks born after Biggie who recognize there was something legendary in his talent, this film helps them fill in the misinformation they weren’t privy to when they were alive. It dredges up reenactments of familiar news clips and video footage (the SOURCE Awards diss by Suge Knight, the video where Biggie and Tupac talk about taking over hip-hop and everybody’s money). Some of the actors hired for the parts make you laugh a bit. Okay, a lot. But growing up around that time, I feel duped. I feel like Combs didn’t feel like reviving Making the Band to keep himself relevant would be enough; so once again he’s trotting out Biggie to remind people of how he rides people’s talent to his own benefit. (Similar but not quite related note: how is Tupac in a new song with Keyshia Cole? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7GvNuZEKvM Having flashbacks to Chappelle right now; “I did this song a long time ago, a really long time ago…”)

There’s one moment in the movie where Sean Combs talks to Biggie about how his career is taking off and how they’ve signed a new deal with Arista. “I just signed a $42 million deal, and you’re going to get 5!” The math may have made sense if the movie showed a cohesive hip-hop unit in Bad Boy. But in the end it just showed that Biggie got a raw deal during his rap career and he’s getting one postmortem. I walked into the movie expecting a $42m story and I only got 5.

And it’s all Sean Combs’ fault.