Super Curricular

Who killed Biggie and Tupac?

This is a story of two great friends who has a misunderstanding, a falling out and who became deadly enemies. The murders were long explained as being the result of the rivalry that had grown up between them, but award-winning documentary maker Nick Broomfield reveals startling evidence to suggest the blame lays everywhere.

The official media line has always been to link the murders to the East Coast/West Coast gang wars epitomised by rivalry between the record companies Bad Boy and Death Row. Broomfield interviews friends, rivals, family, cops and ex-cops. He exposes the involvement the involvement of the LAPD in Death Row Records, drug trafficking and cover-ups. He goes, unauthorised and unprotected, into a terrifying jail to interview Suge Knight, the Death Row executive who by now we know is probably responsible for Tupac’s death although he has now been released from jail.

Nick Broomfield is one of the few British documentary film-makers whose work approaches ‘auteur status’. For nearly 30 years he has produced feature-length documentaries which have shifted the genre in a number of ways. His films are:

... edgy, and focused on the darker, sleazier side of human experience, in Biggie and Tupac it’s violence – not only in the explicit threat of the East/West Coast gangs, and the music itself, but also lurking behind apparently respectable public and commercial institutions – the police, the FBI, and the record companies.

... personality-led rather than issue-led – in which both the personalities of his subjects, and his own ‘take’ on them, become controversial ‘stars’ of his films. In Biggie and Tupac, the dead stars are almost less important than those they have left behind: Ms Wallace, in her kitchen and shrine-like living room, the central voice of pride and honesty underpinning the film; Suge Knight, who we only meet in person at the very end, but who is a malevolent threat behind every scene; the ex LAPD detective who helps Broomfield to unravel the layers of corruption. Riveting personalities with important stories to tell.

...told from a personal and subjective viewpoint. Rather than a fly on the wall, his intention is to be ‘a fly in the ointment’, as an editor once called him; his films are much more about his own quest for information, and his own preoccupations and interpretations, as about their apparent subjects. He interrupts, goads and noses around his interviewees, his voice is literally present in each film, and he has appeared on screen in all of them since the early 80s. Which means his films are also...

...about the process of filmmaking. Biggie and Tupac, like most Broomfield films, records his apparently disorganised quest as he follows false trails, fails to get interviews, drives around in search of witnesses, gets threatened (a recurrent motif) and generally exposes the workings of the research process. A signature element is his juxtaposition of a wide range of conventional documentary techniques to raise questions about what we’re watching. In Biggie and Tupac, the combination of long takes shot through car windows, direct address to the camera, confessional-type talking head interviews, archive footage, stills and web-page images are edited together to cast doubt on each other. This style can be extremely irritating but it is also thought-provoking. It draws attention to the film’s construction and point of view – both of which at first seem spontaneous and arbitrary but are clearly highly selective and intentional.

...about big stories. While his films invariably tell personal stories, they also tap into bigger issues. Broomfield tells epic tales with all the elements o feature-film drama. There is usually a powerful narrative quest or riddle which Broomfield, our anti-hero, tries to solve. In Biggie and Tupac, it’s the unsolved murders, and the maze of obstacles and corruption complicating the investigation. But there are also wider themes – in this case, the roles of the FBI and LAPD in instigating the murders, contributing to the East/West Coast gang warfare, and discrediting the hip hop movement. And on a further narrative level, there is the all too real anxiety about whether the mild-mannered filmmaker himself will survive in this violent and unpredictable gangland environment – at times this looks distinctly doubtful.

...media-friendly. Broomfield himself is now a celebrity in his own right – so much so that he’s even parodied himself in VW car commercials. He has the knack of homing in on aspects of popular culture younger audiences want to know about, and generating media coverage; he’s good-looking, gives a charming (and knowing) interview, and does not shy away from publicity. Additionally, he puts himself in dangerous situations, as when he goes to interview Suge Knight in prison – a scenario so terrifying that his camera operator refused to participate and had to be replaced.

About Biggie, Tupac and the US Music Industry

o   The FBI has, since the mid 80s, consistently sought to undermine and discredit the entire Hip Hop genre, using surveillance, negotiation with gangs, and the political system to create a climate of fear and rivalry which it can blame on the influence and effects of rap.

o   Under the guise of personal feuding and violent East/West Coast gang rivalry, Biggie and Tupac were in fact driven apart by Death Row Records, which poached Tupac from Sean Puffy Coombs (P Diddy’s) Bad Boy Records label, grossed millions from his music and, when he attempted to leave the label, murdered him to avoid paying him $10 million in unpaid royalties.

o   Biggie's murder was effectively a cover-up for Tupac’s, orchestrated by Suge Knight and Death Row Records, carried out with the approval of, and probably hitmen from, the LAPD. The suppression of evidence, witnesses and investigation outcomes point directly to Knight, whose tyranny is open, public and a continuing threat at the highest levels of the industry.

o   The LAPD has been involved in corruption on a huge scale and has powerful family connections with Death Row. At any one time 30-40 LAPD officers were on the Death Row payroll as ‘security’, and deeply involved in drug trafficking, sex parties, intimidation and evidence-planting.