In the realms of hip-hop music, there’s a pantheon of
artists who are no longer with us that embody some of the grandest mythologising I’ve seen out of any media discussion circles. Artists like The
Notorious B.I.G., Big Pun, Tupac Shakur, Eazy-E, not to mention more recent
deaths like Sean Price and even Lil Peep. However, at least in more underground
circles, one name keeps coming up as an artist that thousands the world over
are still mourning to this day: Micheal David Larsen, otherwise known as Eyedea.
I wound up discovering the guy’s music after his untimely
death in 2010, but it didn’t take long for me to understand why the guy was
missed as much as he was. As creative as he was an impossibly heavy
contemplator, his music didn’t so much make me tune in as they sent me on a
philosophical rollercoaster with how far he’d delve into what makes human
beings tick. I even consider the album First Born by him and producer DJ
Abilities to be one of the best hip-hop records of all time, a showcasing of a
man who was a force to be reckoned with. Imagine if Kurt Cobain took more
inspiration from Public Enemy than Iggy Pop and the Pixies, and you have an
idea of not only the man’s creative output but also the legacy he left behind.
With all that in mind, when news first hit of a documentary all about the man
himself, I kept a very close eye on it, just waiting for the chance to check it
out for myself. But now that I have the DVD in my hands, I can’t help but think
that I set myself up for a colossal fall.
The plot (such as it is): Framed around interviews from
friends and family, this documentary looks at the life and times of Micheal
“Eyedea” Larsen, from his goofball years as a child to his embracement of
hip-hop culture, going on to win rap battle after rap battle. However, when his
star seemed to be at its peak, an unfortunate accidental overdose spelled his
end.
Production wise, this really makes me want to reconsider
what I think makes for good documentary filmmaking. As I’ve said in the past,
documentaries tend to be at their best when they’re visually at their worst.
The less artificial gloss is painted over the picture, the more real it feels
and the effect of it being a snapshot of the real world feels closer to the
truth. Here, that same idea results in not only weak filmmaking but filmmaking
so weak as to make the process of watching it difficult. The interview footage
is incredibly static and plain, somehow making online vlogs look like the
height of cinematic framing, the audio for which can get so cold that you can
barely make out what is being said. I watched this wearing some pretty
heavy-duty headphones, and I still
had to strain to hear some of these interviewees.
On top of that, we have a
wildly inconsistent collection of clips that never feel like they’re meant to
be sharing space with each other. Admittedly, the way that sound clips and song
fragments from Eyedea are edited in can be rather fun, but then again, the
often-reused music in the background still gets rather irksome. And this is
without even getting into director/editor Brandon Crowson’s attempts to animate
still pictures and lip-sync them to Eyedea’s words. I didn’t realise that it
was possible to reach the Uncanny Valley without the use of computer graphics,
but this guy managed to do just that.
Okay, getting away from the construction side of things, how
about the information presented? Well, it mostly sticks to facticity with the
interview subjects mainly telling personal anecdotes about their interactions
with the artist. Again, the awkward framing of the interviewees can get a bit
distracting, but as far as painting a picture of the man, they do well enough
at fleshing him out. They go over his early days in hip-hop, starting out as a
break-dancer before getting into writing and being an MC, and even share their
favourite moments with him.
To this end, the best interviewee without a doubt
is Sean “Slug” Daley, member of the rap group Atmosphere, head honcho of the
record label Rhymesayers, and one of the most powerful voices in Midwestern
hip-hop. The man’s legendary way of words serve him well here as he goes into
his favourite Eyedea song, stories about their life on tour, and even managing
to contextualise Eyedea’s creative output as an extension of the man himself.
What makes this stick out isn’t just because he makes Eyedea sound like the
kind of person who needs a film made about them; it’s also because he’s the
only thing here that makes that point.
Whenever a documentary or even a biopic about a certain
niche figure or idea comes out, there’s always that worry that it will only
preach to the choir; appeal to people who already know the ins and outs of the
subject matter. It’s what some (including myself) feared The Disaster Artist
would be, and it’s unfortunately how this film turns out. Throughout the film,
because of how little context is given for the figures talking about Eyedea’s
life and work, there’s a nagging feeling that we should already be familiar
with all the players in this story. I run in hip-hop circles and even I was
taken aback at how much the film presumed I knew about these people. All that
info I gave on Slug as a figure in hip-hop? That’s far more than this film ends
up telling us, presenting him instead as just a co-worker and friend. That
down-to-earth approach would be just fine, if it weren’t for the fact that this
film is actively trying to wring respect out of its audience.
It even ends on a
weirdly aggressive note, with Eyedea’s mother Kathy (who is the current runner
of the Eyedea estate, not that that is really addressed in the film proper) and
one of his frequent collaborators Carnage The Executioner basically yelling at
the people who only pointed out Eyedea’s mental state after the fact. They keep
giving them the business about “If you noticed, you should have spoken up
sooner” and all this other junk, and I’m just sitting here wondering why this
film is begging me to respect an artist who has already earned his place in my
heart.
All in all… okay, I’m going to show you guys a couple of
pictures.
I took these at an Atmosphere live show in Sydney earlier this
year. After Eyedea’s death, Slug wrote a song in his memory called Flicker.
When he performed it at the show, all of the stage lights turned off and everyone in the
audience (myself included) took out their phone lights and lit up the stage. I can't speak for how common this is for his shows, but being there in person, it was almost like a religious experience. Slug was pouring his heart out over a dead friend and colleague, while his audience made him visible.
I bring this up because that one moment, counting at five minutes at most, gave a better sense of who the man was and what the world lost without him than this hour-and-a-half documentary. It’s poorly constructed, haphazard in its effects, and while some of the interviewees give a decent glimpse into their perception of the subject, everyone else feels too absent-minded to really get all the information out there. It comes across like I’m both supposed to know all of this information already and be educated on a great man that deserved more acknowledgement than he got in his lifetime. Knowing how much the Rhymesayers fanbase idolises this man, I can see this possibly working well with its target audience (backpacker hip-hop heads) but likely will do nothing for anyone else. Hell, I’m even in that target audience and I’m still not satisfied with this.
I bring this up because that one moment, counting at five minutes at most, gave a better sense of who the man was and what the world lost without him than this hour-and-a-half documentary. It’s poorly constructed, haphazard in its effects, and while some of the interviewees give a decent glimpse into their perception of the subject, everyone else feels too absent-minded to really get all the information out there. It comes across like I’m both supposed to know all of this information already and be educated on a great man that deserved more acknowledgement than he got in his lifetime. Knowing how much the Rhymesayers fanbase idolises this man, I can see this possibly working well with its target audience (backpacker hip-hop heads) but likely will do nothing for anyone else. Hell, I’m even in that target audience and I’m still not satisfied with this.
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