BIGGIE AND TUPAC (Nick
Broomfield, 2002) R
Reviewed: October 7th, 2002
Nick Broomfield (Heidi Fleiss: Hollywood Madam, Kurt & Courtney)
reminds me of his fellow documentarian Michael Moore. Both take an extremely proactive
plan of attack, putting themselves in most shots, the central/active participant
who goes where they're not supposed to and instigates those who don't wanna talk
to them. They're both unassuming in appearance: Moore, overweight and always wearing
a baseball cap; Broomfield, pasty, t-shirted and British (think a handsomer Oliver
Stone). And they're both fearless (the extraordinarily tense Biggie
and Tupac sequence with Broomfield in prison -- in which even Broomfield's
own cameraman abandons him -- will convince you of this, if nothing else). But
their goals differ: Moore is more directly concerned with provocation, and thereafter,
dialogue by way of this provocation. Broomfield just wants the truth. He wants
to solve his mysteries (in this case, who is responsible for the murders of musicians
Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls), and his scope is manageable enough that -- unlike
Moore, who tackles such broad issues as employment and the root of American violence
-- he might actually be able to. Biggie and Tupac is a crucial piece of investigative
journalism that demands to be seen by as large a body of people as possible.
Don't worry if you don't give a flying fuck about rap, hip-hop or that whole musical
culture. I don't either, and as far as I can tell, neither does Broomfield. Broomfield's
specifically delving into the murders themselves here; that is, who's responsible
and why. Always very entertaining (Broomfield's got a great, dry-as-hell, sardonic
wit; there's one scene where someone is insulting Broomfield's past films that's
flat-out hilarious) while never losing sight of the immediate/pressing questions
at hand, Biggie and Tupac furthers the theory that Death Row records, and particularly
Death Row head Suge Knight, was responsible for both Tupac and Biggie's deaths.
To briefly summarize: Broomfield mounts an ultra-convincing case that: (A)
Tupac was murdered because not only did Suge and Death Row owe him millions of
dollars, but because he was soon gonna leave them, taking his unreleased recordings
(worth multi-millions more) with him. (B) Biggie Smalls was murdered by
Suge and Death Row as a red herring of sorts, idea being to deflect the momentary
attention away from the Tupac investigation (the T/B slayings occurred during
fall 1996/spring 1997, respectively) and push the convenient East Coast/West Coast-gang/recording
label-rivalry-was-the-cause-of-both-deaths-theory into the national limelight.
(C) Many corrupt, Death Row-payrolled members of the LAPD were heavily
involved in all of the above, which is why the case is still unsolved. (D)
The FBI, who had Tupac and Smalls under surveillance at the time of their deaths
was also somehow involved (and an FBI agent is suspiciously cagey when Broomfield
attempts to question him).
There's a lot of information to digest here, all packaged densely together. I
couldn't always keep a completely firm handle on the super-convoluted web of cops/informers/artists/killers/friends/family/etc.
the movie operates in, despite Broomfield's constant, pretty clear and concise
voice-over narration (which often sounds like a borderline parody of E! True Hollywood
Story narration). I'm not sure if this is more telling of my own brain or what
a huge quantity of information Broomfield squishes into sub-two hours. Regardless,
for the vast majority of the film I was with Broomfield every step of the way,
hungering to see what revelation he could elicit next.
Return home.