Most of what we get instead are talking heads. Many of these are necessary, though, like when jazz musician Donald Harrison talks to us about how he recognized Wallace's talent for music early on. Faith Evans (Wallace's widow and collaborator) and Sean Combs also provide essential narratives of what the actual Christopher Wallace was like, not simply as an artist but as a person.
But the most compelling scenes feature Biggie's mother, Voletta Wallace. An immigrant from Jamaica and a fan more of country and western music than gangsta rap, she has been protective of her son's legacy since his death, and her voice can be heard on several Biggie tracks and the final album he appeared in: The King and I, by Evans. Voletta's candor is almost slightly ironic because any criticism that has ever been issued towards Christopher Wallace (aside, I suppose, criticism of his lyrics) has been from his mother. Yet her discussion of her son further humanizes him in a way much of the rest of this documentary fails to do so. They are candid moments that help enlighten viewers on the narrative behind some of his lyrics.
Voletta's immigrant identity clearly had an impact on her son's music. One of his best songs ("Respect" from the album Ready to Die) takes heavy inspiration from Jamaican music. Being the child of an immigrant, we are told, also helped Biggie be established as an "outsider," and one wonders if this added to his natural shyness. However, one will likely be disappointed if they wanted more of a character study of Christopher Wallace, though the documentary certainly is a film for musicologists with its discussion of the musical inspiration for Wallace and his impact on the music world.
But that can only take a film so far, and the essential problem with Biggie: I Got a Story to Tell is that most audience members (including critics) get bored easily by biographical films, as they can be quite dull and fall heavy on the telling side instead of showing us something new. Biographical documentaries are not much better. The usual elements are all there: a rags-to-riches story of a musical genius who also had a lot of tragedy and drugs in his life. Essentially, you've seen this before.
What fans of Biggie already knew—that his rap was a different kind of rap, that his music was loved around the world, that his collaborations with Puffy made them comparable to other brilliant artistic pairings (like Coppola and Pacino or De Niro and Scorsese, we're told)—they will be reminded of in this documentary. But if fans were hoping for something more, they are likely to be disappointed. It often simply feels like talking heads reminding us that he was a genius. Simply listening to his songs is a much more potent lesson than most of what is found here.
The Greatest Notorious B.I.G. Songs:
49. The Reason
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