Dir. Jim Sheridan, 2005, US, 117 mins
Cast: Curtis ‘50 Cent’ Jackson, Terrence Howard, Joy Bryant
In 2005, rapper Curtis ‘50 Cent’ Jackson lent his name to a video game. The aptly titled ‘Bulletproof’ allowed gamers to perform as Mr Cent as he takes on violent crime syndicates, mindlessly gunning his way through squalid street gangs in search of justice and a better tomorrow. Of course, such heroic implications were merely a canny subterfuge for incessant bloodshed and a gloriously immoral celebration of contemporary gun culture. Thankfully, 50 Cent’s latest step towards world domination, the gangster rap crime flick Get Rich or Die Tryin’, is a rather more responsible affair. While gun violence still prevails, it does attempt something approaching a moral perspective, with the carnage gratifyingly brutal rather than simply played for debauched thrills.
Having been raised by his grandparents following the drug related murder of his mother, Marcus (Jackson) becomes mixed up in the narcotics trade, and soon rises to prominence among his peers as the chief operative in his field. Finding solace in his girlfriend, Charlene (Bryant), Marcus increasingly devotes his time to music, and dreams of making it as a gangster rap artist. But his work is dangerous, and when a nearly fatal attack leaves him fighting for his life, Marcus decides to escape from the perilous world of drugs.
Drawing parallels to Jackson’s much publicised life prior to his fame, the film falls somewhere between a fictional piece and a biopic. Like our hero, the rap star’s mother was also killed while he was growing up, and he too was shot nine times in a drug related attack. But although his life has a suitably cinematic tendency towards high drama, Jackson makes for a disarmingly uncharismatic lead. With his slow, often incomprehensible drawl, and a permanent facial expression that bridges the gap between boredom and bewilderment, it is a struggle to care much for Marcus’ plight. While elsewhere the other male leads are simply too nondescript to register, edging dangerously close to lazy genre stereotypes. One cannot help feel this is perhaps down to the frankly baffling involvement of director Jim Sheridan, who is understandably more at home in the picturesque Irish locales of My Left Foot (1989) or The Field (1990) than on the crime-fuelled streets of the ghetto.
But while the men fare badly, the women come off even worse. Generally devalued in minor roles as unfit mothers or perfunctory sex objects, only Bryant has any substantial dialogue as Marcus’ ever determined partner. Lending a much-needed emotional foundation to proceedings, as well as a break from the vague air of misogyny on show, she still remains inexcusably underwritten with her motives for joining Marcus in his murky underworld failing to satisfactorily convince.
Much like the music promos 50 Cent is known for, the film uses icons of wealth to symbolise power. Adorned with increasingly extravagant jewellery, our hero firmly believes that money can indeed buy happiness. Following his mother’s death, Marcus seems upset, but it is only with the realisation that the loss of her money will leave him slumming it in last season’s footwear that he goes into notable period of mourning. A scene with the youngster peering longingly into a shop window at a pair of sneakers is unashamedly played to tug on the heartstrings. Similarly, as an adult it is the purchase of a flash new car that sees Marcus display his most unguarded display of happiness. It would seem that the unexpected reunion with his childhood sweetheart or birth of his first child just could not compare.
Michael Blyth
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