Rap superstars make their move into movie stardom

By Michael Tsai
Advertiser Staff Writer

Queen Latifah earned an Oscar nomination for upstaging two Hollywood beauties in the movie version of "Chicago."

Ice Cube, the Don Mega gangsta who once challenged Los Angeles police to "go toe to toe in the middle of a cell," is on the short list of celebrities to be harangued by Martin Short's plastic-enhanced alter-ego Jiminy Glick.

So, we have to ask: A decade ago, who would have envisioned Steve Martin playing set-up for Latifah, as he does in "Bringing Down the House"?

Who would have imagined Ice Cube, who once rapped that Uncle Sam was "Hitler without an oven," would write, produce and act in a movie series as popular in white suburbia (and Hawai'i) as it is in his own South Central L.A.?

It's not like we couldn't see them coming. Both were legitimate hip-hop superstars in the late 1980s. Both carefully cultivated their public personas, easing into television and film without sacrificing their street credibility.

But who would have guessed how far these two would come? Or how fast the boundaries that used to stand between black performers and mainstream stardom would crumble?

Stereotypes, they got to go. I'm-a mess around and flip the scene into reverse.

Sina Peters was living in New York when Latifah's debut, "All Hail the Queen," was released in 1989.

"I remember when I saw that video ('Ladies First') with her and Monie Love rapping, and it was so joyful and so powerful," said Peters, who now lives in Waikiki.

"Even then you could tell that she was going places. There was a lot of attitude, but it was genuine — that's what you felt."

Amen, said Kelii Fisher of St. Louis, who accompanied Peters to a Honolulu screening of "Bringing Down the House."

"I love her to death," said Fisher. "To me, she's easier to get behind than Halle (Berry) because with her it's not about the looks, it's about strength. I'm not saying that she's a saint, but I wouldn't mind my daughter taking her as a role model."

Along with Salt 'n' Pepa, Roxanne Shante and MC Lyte, Latifah — née Dana Owens — served as a prototype for today's female rappers — self-assured and unflinching in a male-dominated genre. She was the first female rap artist to earn a gold record ("All Hail the Queen") and the first to win a Grammy for Best Solo Rap Performance ("U.N.I.T.Y." in 1994).

But over the last decade or so, Latifah's work as an actress, which began in 1991 with a guest role on "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air" and supporting parts in the films "House Party 2," "Jungle Fever" and "Juice," has taken the fore.

Latifah methodically laid the groundwork for her breakout success. She co-starred in the sitcom "Living Single," wrote a self-help book, acted or voice-acted in nearly 20 films, and hosted her own short-lived talk show.

Her role as Mama Morton in "Chicago" solidified Latifah as a major crossover talent. She brought a powerful sexuality and a powerful singing voice to the role of the opportunistic jailhouse matron, earning an Oscar nomination for best supporting actress and becoming one of Hollywood's hottest properties. It was largely her drawing power that buoyed the success of the flat but popular "Bringing Down the House."

Success is breeding more opportunities. Latifah's doing TV commercials, and she' s said to have agreed to star in a spin-off of the movie "Barbershop."

Media try to do me but I was a Boy-N-the-Hood before the movie.

If Latifah is now embraced as a model for contemporary black feminism, what Ice Cube represents has been harder for the American mainstream to swallow.

Cube (formerly O'Shea Jackson) rose to notoriety in the mid-'80s as a member of the seminal gangsta rap group N.W.A., whose full name (Niggaz with Attitude) was too out there for many newspapers to print at the time.

The group's violent portrayal of L.A. gang life and its repudiation of local police incited national debate. Even the most liberal scholars had difficulty defending songs like "F*** the Police." Cube's early solo career was equally controversial.

In 1991, Cube starred in John Singleton's "Boyz N the Hood," one of the first major films to realistically address the L.A. gang culture. It was a critical and popular success.

A wider reconsideration of Ice Cube's image likely started with the 1995 movie "Friday," which he wrote and produced. Cube's portrayal of the lead character, Craig, revealed a lighter side to the rapper.

The movie spawned two successful sequels, "Next Friday" and "Friday After Next." And Honolulu audiences have responded. Managers at Blockbuster Video and Tower Video stores in Honolulu confirm that Ice Cube's movies rank consistently high in sales and rentals.

Then came last year's "Barbershop," in which Cube played the reluctant heir to a neighborhood business. The film was warmly received, earning $75 million against a $22 million budget.

"I think when they first appeared on the scene, they were a shock to the system," said Gray Rosebrough, who wrote a dissertation on hip-hop culture in the media while at the University of Illinois.

"It's taken us all this time to get comfortable with them ... to see past our initial pre-conceptions.

"With Latifah, I think we've gotten over being intimidated by her as a 'strong, black woman,' " he said. "Yes, she is that, but she's also warm and funny — she's what we like to see ourselves as.

"With Ice Cube, we're beginning to recognize the humanity in something we could only demonize before," Rosebrough said. "He said what he had to say as a young man, and now, in his films, he's showing us the rest of it."

To Rosebrough, public acceptance of these artists is reassuring.

"It's part of the cycle of things in a media society to, after an initial shock or clash, to then want to draw in the thing that caused so much upset," he said.

"... (Latifah and Ice Cube) haven't so much changed what they're doing. We're just more comfortable in accepting those things."