The story of the rise and subsequent implosion of one of the most influential bands in US rap history gets a sweeping, epic, but somewhat partisan treatment in F Gary Gray’s explosive drama Straight Outta Compton. NWA’s music was a distillation of pure anger; a snapshot of life for young black men in LA’s gang ghettos. They kept the manufacturers of Parental Advisory stickers in business for years and became both a template and a benchmark for a whole generation of musicians who came after them.
It’s a legacy that the makers of this entertaining swagger of a movie are keen to underline. This is perhaps not surprising, since those makers include NWA members Ice Cube and Dr Dre, who both get producing credits.
Gray directs with the music in his heart at all times — there’s a punchy rhythm to the pacing; the editing is as slick as Dre’s beats. It’s dynamic, vital. Matthew Libatique’s nervy cinematography captures the pressure-cooker tensions between the band and the world they inhabit and rap about. It’s film-making that uses big, bold brushstrokes. Of course, the thing about big, bold brushstrokes is that while they are exciting to watch, you get a sense that some of the sharp edges have been blunted and the more unpalatable elements in NWA’s lyrics have been blurred along the way.
It’s unlikely the film would have been nearly as effective without the fine young cast that steps into the sneakers of the central characters. Primarily a stage actor, Corey Hawkins is a charismatic, self-possessed Dre; while Jason Mitchell’s Eazy-E has a firecracker unpredictability. But it’s Ice Cube’s 24-year-old son, O’Shea Jackson Jr, making his acting debut playing his father, who drives much of the movie. Jackson bears a close physical resemblance to Ice Cube but also captures his distinctive style. Jackson delivers his lines like head butts; his thundercloud scowl every bit as intimidating as his father’s.
Paul Giamatti does his best smiling snake act as Jerry Heller, the manager who, as the film tells it, cheated Ice Cube and Dre out of money that was their due. The other villain of the piece, Suge Knight (R Marcos Taylor) looms into the frame every so often to commit an assault, then lumbers off again, cracking his knuckles ominously. There’s clearly no love lost between Dre and his former Death Row Records colleague.
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The late- 80s/early-90s period is painstakingly evoked, from the authentic old skool trainers down to the last Jheri curl. Gray intersperses genuine news footage — the Rodney King beating, the trial, the LA riots — to contextualise the music within the turbulent backdrop that powered it.
F Gary Gray, 15 , 144min