Fear of a Black Hat: Samuel Goldwyn Company
Rating: USA: R/ UK: 18

Back in 1984, director Rob Reiner made what is arguably the greatest mock documentary of all time (although, some might argue that The Blair Witch Project was more successful)--This is Spinal Tap--a sharp witted satire skewering a fictional heavy metal band. 10 years later, times had changed. Metal had fallen by the wayside in terms of popularity, and now rap music was getting mainstream airplay. Much like metal, hip-hop was a music form that was ripe with the potential to be lampooned—and in 1994, director Rusty Cundieff (Tales From the Hood) did just that, with his razor sharp and wickedly funny film Fear of a Black Hat.

The film, which has earned the nickname This is Spinal Rap in many circles, plays as a cross between Reiner’s film and an early pilot version of VH1’s Behind the Music (only not quite as pretentious and melodramatic as VH1’s program).

Nina Blackburn (Kasi Lemmons) is working on her doctoral thesis, so she decides to delve into the underbelly of hip-hop culture by doing a documentary on controversial rap group NWH (N*ggaz With Hats). Over the course of a year, she’ll hang out with the group, capturing their trials (dealing with a record label who doesn’t want to release their new album) and tribulations (success that ultimately leads to their break up)—all while intercutting between concert footage, news clips, and some hilarious spoof videos for their songs.

Yet, while Blackburn is the catalyst for the film, she’s not the star—NWH is. The three-man crew is comprised of lead rapper Ice Cold (Rusty Cundieff), who’s something of a cross between various gangsta rappers such as Ice Cube and Ice T with a hint of Public Enemy front man Chuck D. thrown in for good measure. His partner in rhyme is Tasty Taste (Larry B. Scott, best remembered as Lamar from Revenge of the Nerds) a gun toting, Jheri curl wearing version of Flavor Flav, and DJ Tone Def (Mark Christopher Lawrence), a mystical record spinner who offers up a lot of skewed spiritual advice.

All three actors shine throughout the film—whether it’s Ice and his ‘deeper meanings’ (NWH was named because in the slavery days slaves weren’t allowed to wear hats as they toiled in the fields—thus they were too weak at the end of the day to rebel for their freedom—but now, black men have hats, so it’s on. His song ‘Booty Juice’ is really about society and oppression, etc.), Tasty Taste’s small armory in the storm basement of his house (which is in an upper class white neighborhood), or Tone Def’s odd sense of philosophy, each actor will crack you up on numerous occasions throughout the film.

Part of this is attributable to the performances, which are all solid. However, the main reason the film works so well is because Cundieff has such a sharp eye for riffing on his subject matter. Watching Fear of a Black Hat is like opening a hip-hop time capsule—one that’s been sealed and buried since the early 1990s. Nothing and no one is safe here—not mainstream acts like Hammer, not female rappers Salt and Pepa (the film features another girl group—Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme…and they’re no ordinary spices), white acts like Vanilla Ice (Vanilla Sherbet), popular dance hip-hop a la C&C Music Factory, and even avante garde groups like PM Dawn.

Not only do they poke fun at the acts, they also poke fun at many of the controversies of that same time period. NWH is warned by the police that if they perform certain lyrics, they’ll go to jail on obscenity charges. Ice Cold gets sued over using one woman’s vocals in a song, but replacing her with a more attractive, lip-synching dancer in the video (MTV News man Kurt Loder makes a cameo here). A brawl breaks out between NWH and their rivals The Jam Boys after Ice Cold shows photos of one of The Jam Boys (who are supposedly from the ‘hood) at his prep school with a bunch of white kids—and this happens at a ‘rappers against violence’ seminar for school kids.

But wait, it doesn’t stop there…Cundieff also pokes fun at ‘serious black filmmakers’ like Spike Lee and John Singleton with a brief appearance by filmmaker Jike Spingleton. Jike’s shooting his feature film, New Mack Village, with none other than Ice Cold in the leading role. The snippet of the film that we see is a pretty good spoof of New Jack City’s opening—complete with Ice wearing the same goofy black hat that Ice-T did in the original.

Certainly, a knowledge of hip-hop history from this era will increase your enjoyment of the film, but it’s not essential—the comedy is broad enough that even those who don’t like rap music will get the majority of the humor.

While all of the above is funny, perhaps the greatest thing about Fear of a Black Hat are the songs and videos of NWH. Tracks like ‘My Peanuts’, ‘Guerillas in the Midst’ and ‘Pet the P.U.S.S.Y.’ (it’s really an acronym—which Ice explains in another one of his infamous ‘deep moments’) are all actually pretty good tracks (ok, I’m not fond of the last one—it’s too dance-ish for me). Not only are the songs good, but they’ve also got MTV-style videos that are spoofs of popular videos of the time. These videos, like the songs, actually look legitimate—it would have been easy to imagine seeing them on Yo! MTV Raps back in the day. Astute fans of adult films will also spot porn stars Alicia Rio and Dominique Simone in the hot tub during the ‘A Gangster’s Life’ video.

The film’s one flaw is that it does lose some momentum in the last act, where a domineering girlfriend breaks up the group. This sequence culminates with an overlong scene in a hotel room where everyone pulls a gun on everyone else, which inevitably leads to NWH’s caucasian manager getting shot (he’s the sixth white manager of the group to die). However, things pick right back up when we start following each artist’s solo career. Ice sells out and becomes a dance-rap act, Tasty becomes a militant who makes songs talking about how much he hates Ice, and the best is Tone Def who does the new age PM Dawn-style track ‘I’m Only Human’—a track that has some of the most hilarious lyrics I’ve ever heard. Their failure as individual artists leads to an inevitable reunion—and that’s where the movie ends.

Ultimately, Fear of a Black Hat is the greatest hip-hop mockumentary ever made. It’s vastly superior to the much more hyped and promoted Chris Rock vehicle, CB4. Director Rusty Cundieff displays a biting wit and a wicked sense of humor in this, his debut film. And while his later works have failed to live up to the potential shown here, he’s still a filmmaker worth keeping an eye on. Unfortunately, finding a copy of this film is fairly difficult—it’s out of print, and a DVD release seems unlikely—one more reason I’m glad I bought my copy years ago. If you’re a fan of rap music, This is Spinal Tap, or just wicked satire, then Fear of a Black Hat is well worth tracking down.


Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: VHS
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening