8 Mile
It matters not where Eminem got los in his
film-starring debut (discounting, of course, his
rousing portrayal of the indignant "Chris" in DJ
Pooh's "The Wash"), for it certainly was not in the
music in "8 Mile." What could be expected from a
script written by the gentleman who scooped a steaming
pile of "Mod Squad" on us only a few years back? Scott
Silver successfully fails once more in this pedantic,
one-dimensional farce of a movie about a poor honky in
Detroit. Also, it might be crucial to know that the
film takes place in 1995, though there is absolutely
no rational or even seemingly concious reason for this
time choice.
Jimmy Smith, Jr., Eminem's white honky, vys for the
respect of his hometown boys, though he seemingly
already retains a certain profundity in his groups
from previous attempts at winning the limelight.
However, in the film, the audience is privy to
constant choking up on stage, where Smith does his
best to win his rap battles, booed off-stage, beaten
up off-stage, or knocked around by his completely
erratic mother who borders nicely on manic-depression.
Keeping a vast myriad of superfluous, yet simplistic
problems juggling around Smith's head, the audience is
never granted a look inside to developed struggles,
quests, or even characters.
Much like John Singleton's "Baby Boy," we are promised
a helpful serving of true-to-life, slice-of-life
moments, so desne and ripe with pain and brutal
honesty, that we are eventually transported to that
place in time. In both films, nonetheless, we are, in
reality, offered a bitter, yet sugar-coated series of
uninspired, episodical scenarios based on familiar
archetypes of these cliche characters, never really
linking together for any meaning or intrigue.
Though it has been said that the story is
semi-autobiographical on the part of Marshall Mathers,
unless Slim's been lying in his countless "TRL" plugs,
"Teen Beat Magazine" articles, or his BET guest
appearances, the only similiarity he shares with "8
Mile's" protagonist is his career aspirations and skin
color.
Director Curtis Hanson, whose able-bodied mindset
brought us "The Hand that Rocks the Cradle," "The
River Wild," "LA Confidential," and the noble work,
"Wonder Boys," was to have brought a dignified cast to
this frail mold, again failing hopelessly. Hanson, who
could have helped the movie become something other
than a hip-hop version of Britney Spears'
"Crossroads," has relegated his work to this exactly.
The way the story perceives Eminem's character, the
way his friends care only about his future, the way
everything seems to work out a little too amiably for
his character, reveals that this is a film to see how
great Eminem truly is, to see what he can do, where he
came from, and where he might be going... but, if I
really wanted that, I would watch MTV. Fortunately,
unlike "8 Mile" and the characters who reside in this
transparent world, my life does not revolve around
Slim Shady, and I now pity those whose lives
apparently do.
Formulaic, unimaginative, on-the-surface, protentious,
and crass, this film's only advantage is that the plot
is so absurdly thin that it is easily forgotten,
dismissed, and excoriated from the film with which it
rises.
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