Eminem’s “8 Mile”: A Critical Look
Eminem has been captivating the world for seven years with just his name. So, why not conquer the film industry, especially when it’s so willing? The acquisition of “8 Mile” for a wide release wasn’t accidental. The audience will bite, no doubt. They’ll be drawn in, even if it’s just by the fact that this tedious film with a $40 million budget more than doubled its investment in the US within two weeks. Are we any worse than the American homeland?
Why not delve into its problems, presented with typical Hollywood straightforwardness? We’ll gladly go, pay, and advise our friends to do the same, so we don’t feel so bad about wasting our own money. We’ll sing praises about how much we enjoyed it. Oh, how we enjoyed it…
But why? Was it because, as soon as Eminem was arrested for robbery, he improvised from behind bars that he would get his memoirs, which he hadn’t even started writing yet, made into a film, and all the newspapers were buzzing about it? Or was it because these not-yet-bestselling memoirs of a 27-year-old Lermontov-esque character suddenly tempted the Oscar-winning Curtis Hanson? Or was it because Hanson’s most brilliant marketing move was to offer the lead role in the film adaptation to the main character himself? Just imagine what he had to do to get Eminem to agree. Amazing. He brought out the heavy Oscar-winning artillery from his “L.A. Confidential” (Kim Basinger) and the light artillery in the hypersexual form of Brittany Murphy (“Just Married”). If the newspapers had known in advance that Eminem would get to sleep with Murphy right on camera, while pressing her oily pants against a metal-cutting machine, the film wouldn’t have just made money; it would have made a fortune.
However, it’s too early to give up; not everything is advertising, as it seems. In “8 Mile,” the dubbing is actually decent: only the dialogues are translated, while the songs have subtitles. The translation is also acceptable: phrases like “don’t worry” and “freaking out” are used in Russian by the same age group as in American English. Hip-hop fans enjoy the “battles” in the original language. Adults don’t mind the sexually addicted mother, even though Robin Wright Penn played a similar role in “White Oleander” just recently. Overall, “8 Mile” doesn’t offend the ears or eyes with complete garbage. But why enjoy it if there are no black people in Russia?
The Universal Story?
It’s clear that America, 35 years after Martin Luther King, finally saw many bad black people on screen for the first time. For them, genuine joy is acceptable in this case. And where there are black people, there is poverty, workers, conflicts, fights, and dirt. That’s the harsh truth of life. But what difference does it make to us what color they are if the plot of “8 Mile” is exactly the same as “A Woman Who Sings,” only instead of the big, red-haired Pugacheva, there’s a small, white rapper? The setting is also similar to some “Height” or “Working Settlement,” only instead of barracks, there are trailers, and instead of walking, there’s a rusty “Dodge” with a coughing engine. Our “Hacker” and “The Needle” were somehow cooler in the past generation. They weren’t masterpieces either, but at least they had some variety, and it was clearly formulated.
Lack of Originality
Eminem didn’t bother to come up with anything other than a consistent, detailed account of his completely stereotypical youth. Not a single violation of chronology or iconography, let alone a sense of rhythm. The white freak from the factory was used to being a poor genius in his own circle, but in someone else’s, he immediately became shy. However, after riding the bus and practicing, he became a genius in someone else’s circle too. All the bad guys smoke. Mom smokes, girlfriend smokes, little sister is relaxing. The genius loved his little sister. Does Eminem think that if he became a star, everyone will be amazed that he didn’t fall from the sky and was born without a halo? But this creeping chronological order in “8 Mile” completely disavows rap, which is supposed to have an innate sense of rhythm. If all this is the work of the main white rapper who defeated the blacks, where’s the fashion here? What for? The film is even one and a half times longer than “A Woman Who Sings.”
A Missed Opportunity for a Musical
It would be great to turn it into a musical… Let them just swear at each other on stage, improvising to a beatbox, and let their vocabulary be just as limited as their grammar and intonation. All the tension would arise if Eminem sang that stereotypical youth in a duet with his buddies (L Zed, Papa Doc) during another musical marathon. Instead of stupid, straightforward attacks on the partner with dubious rhymes, there would be content, meat, and something to rhyme besides “fuck-Tupac.”
Conclusion
Detroit could have become a kind of anti-“Chicago.” Alas, the weak hint of a musical is also built into chronic stupidity, not the other way around. Whoever enjoys this has too much money to spend. A millionaire, indeed.