New York is marking the 50th anniversary of the birth of hip-hop at a Bronx block party in 1973 with a packed program of IRL and virtual events, series, and celebrations across the city. (There’s even a special edition New York Public Library library card.) Most of these are centered, obviously, on the music. But at the Museum of the Moving Image, in Queens — the home boro of LL Cool J and 50 Cent — the party is cinematic.
“Real Rap: Hip-Hop Star Power on Screen,” which opened in July, features more than a dozen films starring rap artists. The selection is eclectic and tracks hip-hop performers’ progress from secondary players to headliners. The first wave of titles — New Jack City (1991, Ice-T), Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit (1993, Lauryn Hill), and Poetic Justice (1993, Tupac Shakur) — treat rap and rappers as almost subcultural and exotic others in a straight world emerging from and challenging the conservative Reagan ‘80s. A mere decade later, hip-hop was mainstream and the artists-turned-performers became legit actors in legit films designed for mass appeal, such as Barbershop (2001, Ice Cube), 8 Mile (2002, Eminem), and Get Rich or Die Tryin’ (2005, 50 Cent).
“When this nebulous idea was forming in my mind, I was recalling my childhood, specifically the ’90s and early 2000s where the Tupacs, Ice Cubes, 50 Cents of the world reached levels that I don’t think we’ve truly seen ever since,” co-organizer Austin Smith tells the Star-Revue. “They took their art and extended it beyond the recording booth and touched the hearts and minds of everyone across the country and across the world. I thought that cultural moment was something worth celebrating.”
Using House Party (1990) as a starting point, Smith and co-organizer Tiffany Joy Butler drew up a list of 40 films before ultimately paring it back to the 14 included in the series, which runs through October 21. (If you only have time for one, make it Poetic Justice, screening October 6-7; if you have time for two, House Party, screening September 16-17; three, Sister Act 2, screening October 14-15.)
“We were aiming for the star kind of role as much as we were able to,” Butler says. “I think our colleagues wanted to show a Halloween film, so that’s the reason we chose Ghosts of Mars, because Ice Cube is in it. We also wanted to recognize female rappers, so that’s a reason why we’re showing Barbershop, because Eve is in it and she’s great.”
“The focus was on trying to narrow down roles where these rappers we’re showcasing really, in my mind, take the air out of the room,” adds Smith.
Besides being an excellent commemoration of a half century of hip-hop, “Real Rap” demonstrates just how far rappers have come in terms of their relationship with the broader culture. When one showed up in a film in the ‘90s, it could feel like a stunt or a quickie cash grab (ahem, Cool as Ice). Today, hip-hop has utterly mainlined to become the dominant mode of culture — music, fashion, you name it — and performers who began behind the mic are headlining major studio films and earning major recognition.
“They’re actors now, and I think that Hollywood and film directors appreciate them for their performances as actors,” Butler says. “Like Queen Latifah, we’re showing Just Right, where she actually makes a song at the end, which is cute. But she’s also done so many different roles and taken on so many beautiful performances. [She was nominated for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her role in Chicago.] So I think people kind of just understand that these are multi-talented performers who can take on these roles really seriously.”
The related 18-film series “Hip-Hop,” streaming on The Criterion Channel, takes a wider view of rap and the way it manifests in both narrative and documentary cinema. There is some overlap between “Real Rap” (Belly, Poetic Justice), but its expanded conversation of rap films allows curatorial director Ashley Clark to go a bit deeper into the catalog. Here you’ll find foundational films Style Wars (1983) and Wild Style (1983) as well as cult classics Krush Groove (1985) and the fiercely funny mockumentary Fear of a Black Hat (1993) along with stone-cold masterpieces like Do the Right Thing (1989) and Boyz N the Hood (1991).
“We’ve used the word ‘mixtape’ [to describe the series], which I like,” Clark tells the Star-Revue. “I didn’t want to draw artificial boundaries between fiction and nonfiction — after all, that boundary is exploded by Wild Style, and there are so many examples in these films of artists appearing as barely-veiled versions of themselves or riffing on their well known public personas. I just wanted to collect a diverse and interesting group of films that engaged with hip-hop culture in a serious and illuminating way.”
Like Smith and Butler at MoMI, Clark began with an extensive longlist of films for “Hip-Hop.” Some weren’t available for rights and clearances reasons, and he says he’s sad not to have been able to include “deeper documentary cuts” Beat This! A Hip-Hop History (1984), and Big Fun in the Big Town (1986) — two new-to-me films that I’m anxious to seek out. But it’s that spirit of discovery — more than canon building — that’s at the heart of Criterion’s series.
“One doesn’t have to look too far on the internet for lists of the ‘Greatest Hip-Hop Films of All Time.’ I’m not making any such claims here,” Clark says. “But I am certainly aiming to use our platform and reach to spotlight some films that might get overlooked in these conversations. [I hope viewers come away with a] deeper, more historically rooted understanding of the multifaceted nature of hip-hop culture, which is more than just music. I hope they have fun with the program.”
It’s a sensibility central to MoMI’s program, as well. Both “Real Rap” and “Hip-Hop” are good times and unexpected celebrations of the defining musical genre of the last half century. They’re also vital surveys of a kind of American film that, until recently, hasn’t been taken seriously. There has been, and still is, a lot of direct-to-video/streaming junk made starring rap artists and built around rap stereotypes, which can keep legitimacy of the films at arm’s length. But these series make the most convincing case for the validity of hip-hop performers and hip-hop style in movies. The former have made greater inroads on the silver screen than rock stars ever did, and the latter is now as uncontroversial as, say, editing. Anyone who argues to the contrary might as well be yelling at clouds.
“Real Rap” and “Hip-Hop” also confirm that, like the music it sprung from, hip-hop film is a transformative genre unto itself — a new kind of vernacular reshaping the artform. Hip-hop and hip-hop culture have impacted every element of movies, from costumes and set design to cinematography and direction to writing and, yes, acting. There might not be a crush of actual rap films akin to a multiplex full of comic book movies, but that’s because its working on a more fundamental, almost genetic level.
Where things go in the next half century is anyone’s guess. But on this 50th anniversary of the Bronx block party that birthed rap, the films in these series are a testament to the strength of the genre — and its expanding centrality to nearly every facet of American, and indeed global, pop culture.
“Real Rap: Hop-Hop Star Power on Screen” runs at the Museum of the Moving Image, 36-01 35 Ave. in Astoria, through October 21. Showtimes and information can be found online at movingimage.us/series/real-rap. “Hip-Hop” is currently streaming on The Criterion Channel, criterionchannel.com.
