Release Date: November 8, 2002
Starring: Eminem, Kim Basinger, Brittany Murphy, Mekhi Phifer
Directed by: Curtis Hanson
Written by: Scott Silver
Distributed by: Universal Pictures
MPAA Rating: R (strong language, sexuality, some violence, drug use)
When a film opens with a rap star -- or any popular musician -- in the lead, the only conceivable target audience for the film are the artist's fans. In Eminem's feature debut, however, he shows that he can appeal to a much larger audience. Sure, there are his followers, and if you are one, you should definitely enjoy 8 Mile. But it's arguable that this film is even more strongly targeted at those who don't like the real Slim Shady, because it goes great lengths to humanize its star.
The setting is Detroit, 1995, and Jimmy "Rabbit" Smith Jr. (Eminem, a.k.a. Marshall Mathers III) is a young and rising rap artist -- but that's about the only good part of his life. Stephanie (Kim Basinger), Jimmy's mom, is trying to live off bingo winnings in a run-down trailer park while raising Jimmy's little sister Lily (Chloe Greenfield). But despite their many spats, Jimmy cares for the both of them.
Meanwhile, Jimmy is trying to prove himself as a rapper, with the help of his friends, including Future (Mekhi Phifer), through some old-school rap contests at the Shelter, a Detroit club. But Rabbit, as he is known there, is prone to freezing up on stage, his nerves getting the better of his considerable talent, and before the movie is over, he must prove himself in that same arena.
As far as crossover films go, 8 Mile should be taken with a grain of salt, like any other, though it does have a considerable advantage over films like the Mariah Carey starrer Glitter or Britney Spears's Crossroads. Neither of these films had any true substance to them, nor did they provide that entertaining charm known in the industry as "fluff." Like Carey's film, Eminem's try at the glass slipper is loosely based on events from his own life, but the film still has some meat. Eminem, more so than most other artists, raises issues of family, dreams, love, and a blue-collar work ethic in a decrepit Detroit neighborhood.
While it may be hard to consider Eminem's first acting gig a giant leap, it is a step in the right direction. Since his character, Rabbit, is so close to himself, it doesn't stretch the limits of his talent, and he plays the role convincingly. Eminem has a talent for grabbing people's attention, and this holds true for Rabbit -- you want to see what he does next and you want to see him out-rap everyone. Carey and Spears, on the other hand, didn't cross any boundaries in their films that might justify a possible movie career.
The only part that didn't do Eminem justice was the script. Scott Silver, who wrote and directed the remake of The Mod Squad, relied on simple formulas for the story and characters. For instance, if Rabbit wasn't trying to take care of his family, or working at his factory job, he was out rapping, trying to gain a foothold as a white boy in a genre dominated by black artists. Both Rabbit's home life and his love life could have been built up a little more, and 8 Mile would have been much better off.
Ultimately, the viewer will only be watching to see whether Rabbit can overcome the many obstacles in his path. His love interest, an opportunistic skank named Alex (Brittany Murphy), is the most doggedly troublesome of these obstacles, but her character proved to mesh perfectly with the overall theme of the film.
The director, Curtis Hanson (L.A. Confidential and Wonder Boys), here succeeds with another unlikely spectrum of moviemaking. His vision, created with cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto, conveys the grittiness of inner-city Detroit and gives life to the scene through the rusty colors -- every shot tastes like battery acid.
Basically, 8 Mile goes out to anybody who ever ... ah, forget it. As Eminem might say, "Whatever." He spits his game and he spits it well, so for skeptics and fans alike, it's worth listening to what he has to say -- Eminem has got words that will speak to us all.
all contents © 2002 Michael J. Eiff