Dope is brilliant and features more fresh talent than any movie in years. Shameik Moore, Tony Revolori, Kiersey Clemons, Kimberly Elise, Chanel Iman, Quincy Brown, Blake Anderson, Zoë Kravitz & A$AP Rocky are as attractive and compelling a cast as any comedy could have. Clemons & Iman simply sizzle.
The compelling aspect means that Dope is also a drama, one that sheds significant light on America today, in communities that pride themselves on being African-American above all else. It is an of-the-moment lens into urban America, hip hop style, where the N-word is used as the primary 2nd-person personal pronoun.
Produced by Forest Whitaker & executive produced by Pharrell Williams, Sean Combs & Rick Famuyiwa, it is written & directed by the impressive Mr. Famuyiwa. (Famuyiwa, a name I’m happier to write than say.)
Gayness, blackness, wackness: Dope goes into most every -ness and mess that three nerds in a benighted SoCal neighborhood could encounter. Though ranging far thematically, it stays rooted in the experiences of those best friends in their last year of high school. Hell, prom tickets dated May 2, 2015 are a notable prop.
Dope is the first Great American Movie of 2015 and the best movie of the year to date, dethroning Love & Mercy, which was of the 60s and 80s. Dope is totally 2015 and 2015 is at least partly dope. Can’t beat that.
Rick Famuyiwa proves himself an auteur of the first order by writing and directing Dope. His perfect film satirizes the dysfunctions of hip hop culture, while also respecting it and those who seek to rise above it.
Plus it’s funny, engaging, trenchant and enlightening, quite simply a Great American Movie. Like a Great American Novel that “perfectly represents the spirit of life in the United States at the time of its writing” (per Wikipedia), Dope perfectly represents the spirit of life in urban America in 2015. Bravo Famuyiwa!
High School students get involved in many a Hard R situation in Dope. Beware and be cool.
Dope is deeply surreal circumstantially, par for the course with a comedy. Of more interest is the reflection it provides of urban America in 2015, circumstantially surreal though it may be.
The hip hop culture is shown as devoid of upstanding male role models, with rappers and drug dealers filling the void created by absent fathers, uncles and clergy. Thus young achievers must keep their heads down, lest their “white goals” of academic success and college get them marked for regular beat-downs.
Linguistically, the ubiquitous use of the N-word captures the dysfunction of such thinking in a single term. If nothing else, it implicitly enforces a narrow conformity about what it means to be authentically black.
One hopes that a hip hit like Dope provides some social validation for urban nerds like those in the movie.
One of the main characters is a lesbian who is very secure in her sexuality. This too feels of-the-moment, when hip kids needn’t question their preferences like those of yore.
The dysfunction is considerable. Two examples among many: