House rap

"I went to the movies, to see 'Beat Street' / it wasn't bad, it was kinda' neat / 'Krush Groove' was a flick, that I didn't mind / but when it came to 'Rappin', I drew the line." Word to your mother.

Want me to stop?

That's just a small sample of the stupa-fly style of rhymin' on display in this waste of film and location permits. This movie is seriously wack (thats 80s-speak for just f*cking awful). As an emcee, Mario Van Peebles is one hell of an actor. And as an actor, Mario Van Peebles is one hell of a bodybuilder.

Any film calling itself "Rappin'" had better deliver at that genre's highest standard of the time. So why were 6 year olds rolling in the aisles, even back in the day when standards were so knee-high-to-"Webster"-low? Because this rap is weak. So weak that not even B.E.T. or Comedy Central will touch it with a 10-foot gold-rope chain.

Blondie's "Rapture" is def poetry next to this bit of Dr. Suess in the hood. So don't be a boobie, avoid this movie!

Rappin has to be one of the most cliched hip hop films in history. The script is cheesy, the rappin is horrible and the soundtrack doesn't thump. Mario Van Pebbles may a good actor, but the man can't rap. I give this movie a -** out of ****

With the success of "Beat Street" and "Breakin'", Hollywood felt it was the right time to exploit the world of rap music. Keep in mind that this was 1985, and the music was still being promoted by the music. No videos, no shiny record covers, just the music and the people. With that in mind, someone felt it was pretty good to make a film about a few people struggling for a better life, and doing it by having each character rap during key moments in the movie. I don't know what they were thinking, maybe a "West Side Story" for the breakdancers? While this movie could (and should) be exposed as weak, there's a small part inside of you that you eat up like cake. Sure it's cheesy, but at the same time their hearts were in the right place, just not doing it correctly. Mario Van Peebles tries to rap, but the high/lowlight has got to be the ending of the movie, when the entire cast is given a few lines to rap, including the "cowboy" character. And you thought Eminem was the first white wonder.

... and I mean both strange and hilarious. If you lived through that decade this film is even funnier as a bit of cheesy nostalgia. The plot devices could have been used in a Great Depression era programmer - the guy just out of the joint who wants to make good with a kid brother on the path to prison and the mom with a heart of gold, the pretty lady record producer with an abusive boyfriend who is a corny coupling of Elvis and Billy Idol in the looks department, the evil developer/landlord who is trying to drive out the poor people in the neighborhood so he can tear down the slums and make a fortune, and the developer's lackey who looks like the guy who was the runner up in getting the part of the mayor in Robocop.

There are the just plain weird rap acts, the trips through clubs where half of the women are dressed like Madonna wannabes with the electrocuted hair, the corny minimalist dialogue, and all of the guys wearing the single glove like that will make them Michael Jackson. Throwing a raincoat over the shoulder of B sixties cult film star Arch Hall Jr. wouldn't have made him Sinatra, and the single glove bit doesn't work wonders of transformation either.

Recommended for the unintended humor of it all, but do not watch it in the middle of the night if you are trying to get some sleep. The hilarity and unintended goofiness of the proceedings will wake you right up.

Golan-Globus decided to follow up its breakout hit of 1984's BREAKIN' with this movie about how Eriq Lasalle is trying to save his neighborhood from developers while being discovered as a great, natural rap star, with a hackneyed plot and club music that sounds like the chick-a-boom stuff that was used as the soundtrack for every cheesy urban movie in the 1970s.

There's a lot of talent lurking onscreen. Not only is it Lasalle's first movie, but Ice-T (credited under his birth name of Tracy Marrow) and his crew are available.

As I usually am with these productions, I'm more fascinated by the fact that all these poor people have brand new shoes and boxing gloves, perfectly maintained browstones that, we are told, are falling apart and, of course, Lasalle's immaculate hair styling with two perfect spit curls than I am by story acting or technical excellence, mostly because there is so little.