Feature Review | Biggie And Tupac
Written by: Brian Orndorf

There is a reason why the murders of rappers Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls will never fit snugly into Hollywood Babylon. There is simply no mystery to be solved. But, as seen in the new documentary “Biggie And Tupac,” this case will remained uncertain for a long time to come because there is too much fear, money, and dishonestly involved to ever bring the figure behind these murders to justice.

“Biggie And Tupac” is the latest endeavor from Nick Broomfield. Broomfield is an unusually aggressive documentarian that takes a more personal approach to his films. With “Heidi Fleiss: Hollywood Madam,” or the Kurt Cobain murder investigation film “Kurt And Courtney,” we watch Broomfield himself push his way into situations and interviews onscreen without much fear for his own integrity or, in the case of “Biggie,” his own safety. And that’s the beauty of Broomfield’s films. They are all ballsy endeavors in terms of sheer investigation. And whether it is absolute ego, or just a nice homespun way of documentary filmmaking, Broomfield’s style is messy, but never boring.

But in this case, which saw Tupac Shakur gunned down after a Las Vegas boxing match in 1996, and Biggie Smalls (aka The Notorious B.I.G.) shot to death at an L.A. party in 1997, Broomfield doesn’t have much of an argument to present. The central figure in this case is Death Row Records founder Marion “Suge” Knight. A former football player turned violent and imposing rap impresario, Suge Knight is one tough fella, and his trail of intimidation runs long and deep. But the evidence implicating him in both murders is just as deep, with the unfortunate twist being that nobody will speak about this case for fear of Knight’s retaliation. Broomfield tries mightily, and reaches far with his subjects (including Biggie’s bodyguard, who witnessed the shooting, a former LAPD officer with vital “proof” who is holding out for the highest bidder, and Biggie’s own mother, who is the only person to treat Broomfield with respect, as her only goal is to find her son’s killer), but it isn’t enough to make a clear case to hold anyone responsible for the murders. What’s left, though, is a fascinating, albeit brief, journey into this case. Through Broomfield’s research, the audience learns the dynamics between the two slain rappers (and to a smaller extent, the whole East/West coast rap war of the 1990s), the history of bullying by Suge Knight, and even predictable suggestions of corruption inside the LAPD.

With the close of the final reel, what have we learned? Much, yet in some ways, nothing at all. With Suge Knight’s grasp still reaching far and wide, even with all that Broomfield supplies here in terms evidence and just plain old logic, this case’s closure will never see the light of day. Regardless of its fruitless grasping, “Biggie And Tupac” is still Broomfield’s best film to date, and a bold fresh step in trying to solve this tangled murder case for good.

Grade: 9 out of 10