‘They like me / I want ’em to love me like they loved Pac,’ mumbles rapper-of-the-moment 50 Cent on ‘In Da Club.’ 50 is not alone among today’s rappers, who fish for comparisons to Tupac Shakur the poetic, prophetic architect of mid-’90s gangsta rap. Seven years after his mysterious murder at age 25, Tupac’s searing social consciousness, intellectual rage and unapologetic ‘thug life’ philosophy continue to loom large in the hip-hop world, creating the current climate of pretenders to the throne.
But there is only one Tupac. His remarkable life is the subject of a new documentary, Tupac: Resurrection. The film takes its titular assertion seriously. This is, after all, the man who foresaw his own death and accordingly amassed a stockpile of posthumous material. Directed by Lauren Lazin, Resurrection seems born of a similar attitude toward statements of a less artistic nature: the narration consists entirely of interviews spanning Tupac’s career. What emerges is a touching, affecting self-portrait of the intelligent, impulsive, charismatic artist as an eternally young man, painted in the most enduring and powerful medium in Tupac’s life his own words.
Beginning with slow, sprawling shots of a glittering night-lit Las Vegas where Tupac was killed on Sept. 4, 1996 the film retreats and Shakur himself leads the viewer down his collision course with fame and pain that led him to that fateful crossfire.
He tells of his mother, Afeni Shakur (the film’s executive producer), a prominent member of the Black Panther party, who spent time in prison while pregnant with Tupac and successfully defended herself. Tupac talks of his poverty-stricken childhood and his early awareness of social injustice. Here, the film feels like a scrapbook, with overlapping photos and television clips replicating the period and highlighting the elements that stayed in the mind of the young Tupac.
The film displays Tupac’s uncanny ability to wax political and philosophical about his music. When speaking of the grim, dramatized stories he bore witness to on his early records, Tupac denies the criticism that he was glorifying violence. He cites the notion that the grisly images of the Vietnam War appearing on the TV every night helped end the war sooner. ‘So I thought, I’m gonna show the most graphic details of what I see and hopefully they’ll stop it,’ he says.
Throughout the interviews, Tupac’s growth is apparent and intriguing to watch. He’s a preternaturally gifted arts high school student planning his future. He’s a focused 20-year-old artist on a local Los Angeles talk show talking about police brutality with pointed, wry wit.
He’s an agent’s nightmare, bragging on ‘Yo! MTV Raps’ about beating up the Hughes brothers after they dropped him from a movie. He’s a newly humbled man, talking with Tabitha Soren while serving time in prison for sexual assault charges he vehemently denied. Perhaps most of all, he is a young man overwhelmed, realizing the extent of his influence, willing to admit mistakes but with a keen and growing sense of paranoia.
Tupac: Resurrection is a must-see for both devoted fans and those merely curious about one of the most controversial and provocative artists of our generation. ‘I’m not saying I’m going to change the world,’ says Tupac earnestly, midway through the film. ‘But I guarantee that I will spark the brain that will change the world.’ The thought provoking Tupac: Resurrection, though heavy-handed at times, convinces the viewer of this fact.
It ultimately plays out like a mix of journal entries and photo collages that documents the many aspects of its unapologetic, distinctly human hero. The structure may appear one-sided as it depicts both positive and antagonizing forces circling Tupac. But it never claims to be anything other than one man’s fascinating struggle to find a balance between thug and angel.
Ja Rule can fall, barechested, to his knees all he wants. Nas can play up his messianic complex, and 50 can continue to drawl about all the shots he’s taken. But the root of Tupac’s legend is his remarkable ability to lay bare both his physical and emotional scars through his music. And as Tupac: Resurrection explains, it was all part of Tupac’s misunderstood mission: to get those truly listening to dig deep in order to rise above.