|
|
|
|
 |
Tenacious British filmmaker Nick Broomfield puts himself right in the
middle of this rather frightening documentary about the shooting deaths
of rappers Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls (aka Notorious B.I.G.), six
months apart in 1996-97. The police have never solved the murders, and
Broomfield shrugs off the obvious links with gangsta crime, cop
corruption and even FBI complicity to get interviews with everyone he
can, blundering from one place to the next until he gets to the bottom
of the story, creating an intriguing picture of these two men along the
way. Well, there's a lot more about Smalls, as his family and friends
offer video footage, music and rather candid interviews, while
everything about Shakur is further removed.
As the film begins you feel that Broomfield is just stirring up a
conspiracy, blithely wandering into offices and acting like he has no
idea how inflammatory his questions are. Hints of an East/West Coast rap
music feud are unconvincing, as are early comments about police
involvement. And his whiney voiceovers make us think he's way out of his
depth. Then the interviewees start squirming, giving obviously
misleading information, and we realise he is onto something. His grating
(and ingratiating) persona belies his sharp skills, and as details start
to come together we start worrying for his safety. Indeed, the mere fact
that this film exists could force him underground, Salman Rushdie-like.
And perhaps that's what makes thus such a compelling documentary; it
will grip even viewers who aren't interested in rap, as it cuts to the
heart of American society in an unnerving way. How many docs have you
seen that actually scare you?
|
NOT
AVAILABLE YET |
|
|
|
|
|
