DIRECTOR
Curtis Hanson
SCREENWRITER
Scott
Silver
PRODUCERS
Brian Grazer
Curtis Hanson
Jimmy Iovine
CINEMATOGRAPHER
Rodrigo Prieto
MUSIC
Eminem
EDITORS
Craig Kitson
Jay Rabinowitz
CAST
Eminem (Jimmy Smith Jr./Rabbit)
Kim Basinger (Stephanie Smith)
Brittany Murphy (Alex)
Mekhi Phifer (Future)
Eugene Byrd (Wink)
Evan Jones (Cheddar Bob)
Omar Benson Miller (Sol George)
De'Angelo Wilson (D.J. Iz)
Taryn Manning (Janeane)
Chloe Greenfield (Lily)
Michael Shannon (Greg)
Anthony Mackie (Papa Doc)
MPAA rating: R
Running
time: 118m
U.S. release: November 8, 2002
Video availability: VHS - DVD
Official
website
Other Curtis
Hanson films
reviewed on this website:
- L.A.
Confidential
- Wonder
Boys
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8 Mile, the major acting debut of Eminem (né
Marshall Mathers III), isn't nearly as bad -- or, for that reason,
as crummily enjoyable -- as the only previous film starring debut
of a white rapper, Cool as Ice with Vanilla Ice. (I make
that comparison with all the authority, and shame, of someone
who actually rented Cool as Ice.) This is a grim, serious,
half-decent fictionalized account of the days before Eminem was
Eminem -- before he splattered himself onto the American consciousness
with "My Name Is" ("Hi kids! Do you like violence?"
he began. "Wanna see me put nine-inch nails through each
one of my eyelids?") and just kept going. Love or hate Eminem,
he's a virtuoso of invective, with an intricate command of rhyme
and a formidable eye for obscenely surreal detail.
The movie, which recasts Eminem
as Jimmy Smith Jr., a.k.a. "Rabbit," tames him considerably
and dulls his edge. It's not till the climax, when Rabbit faces
off in a battle of rhymes against various nemeses, that we really
get a sense of Rabbit's (and Eminem's) heartless, weightless
style -- a battering ram that hits you so fast you don't notice
you're bleeding. For most of the film, Rabbit mopes around in
godforsaken areas of Detroit with his friends when he's not clashing
with his trailer-trash mom (Kim Basinger, overselling her lower-class
twang), doting on his much younger sister (Chloe Greenfield),
or standing around and facing in the general direction of Brittany
Murphy as a local aspiring model who takes a shine to him.
Murphy's character is in the
movie to show that (A) Rabbit is heterosexual and (B) whether
it's your bingo-playing, jerk-magnet mom or a hot number who'll
drop her panties for you -- or whomever else -- in a heartbeat,
you can't trust women. (Rabbit's little sister gets by because
she can't be more than six years old.) Aside from a clumsy tryst
at the factory where Rabbit works and a couple of conversations,
there's nothing going on between these two, so when he finds
her in flagrante delicto with a local braggart (Eugene
Byrd) who's been promising to get Rabbit some free studio time,
Rabbit seems less angry and disappointed with her than he is
with the braggart.
Working from an Eminem-approved
script (by Scott Silver) that can only be called cautious, Curtis
Hanson steps up to the material with every ounce of bleak verisimilitude
this gifted director (L.A.
Confidential, Wonder
Boys) can muster. It helps, too, that his cinematographer
is Rodrigo Prieto, who worked magic on Amores
Perros and here paints with a bucket of deep rich grays
and blues. 8 Mile feels like a real movie only because
Curtis Hanson never treats it as anything less than a real movie.
It's the sort of film that can deepen your admiration for Hanson
even if the film's content doesn't sway you: Faced with an Eminem
project, Hanson damn near turns it into a Curtis Hanson drama,
with all his recently acquired respect for quiet moments and
character-driven conflict.
Still, you leave 8 Mile
thinking you've seen probably the most sober-sided, technically
accomplished take on the Underdog Transcends Humble Roots genre
since Saturday Night Fever, and even that movie had the
escapist dazzle of the disco. Even in the scenes where Rabbit
proves his virtuosity, 8 Mile comes out of the despair
and rage of the powerless, and even though Hanson's skill keeps
things moving, the film is really no more than a two-hour prelude
to a climax in which our hero ... rhythmically tells people off.
Eminem isn't terrible in his many non-rapping scenes, but then
the script protects him to the extent that he never really has
to express anything other than occasional anger; he stands
apart from his own story, uncommitted to the emotions in the
drama, as if showing vulnerability would make him a "bitch."
If Jimmy had been allowed to be as funny and complex as Eminem's
rhymes often are, 8 Mile might've been something more
than a genre film within a genre film: Underdog Director Transcends
Humble Script.
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