Here it is March, and I have yet to bring myself to want to see this film. I guess we all experience closure in different ways and I’m sure we all experienced B.I.G in different ways. As a writer, I view rappers accordingly. B.I.G.’s flow was just sick. That cat could tell five hundred page stories in less than four minutes. The quick wit, the testosterone, the overall funkiness: “So cream and black is downstairs. The engine’s runnin’. Find a bag to put them guns in, and come on if you comin’.”
To me, B.I.G. was a ghetto scribe. I don’t know if I will ever want my memories of him as a writer contaminated by interpretations of a film maker and actors.Or maybe just………not right now.