There are many ways to gain fame and fortune, and one way is to use your words, which is exactly what Roxanne Shanté did. As a young rapper, she verbally battled and won. Young, Black and female, she went against the odds and became “the woman” in the early rap game. It wasn’t easy, but she was good from an early age. Her story is unique and to that end, this biopic is the type that’s in a category all its own.
The movie tells the story of Roxanne Shanté (née Lolita Shanté Gooden), the female rapper from the Queensbridge projects circa 1984. She was only 14 years old and “Roxanne’s Revenge,” an answer record to U.T.F.O.’s “Roxanne, Roxanne,” recorded in one take, quickly became an underground single. The original U.T.F.O. track dissed a girl named Roxanne for being hard to get. And Roxanne Shanté’s answer track was defiant and it became—in a word—epic. Raw with nothing but a drum track behind her, she went on and on and on, relentless, in the driven, passionate voice of a strong, Black teenage street queen. Unafraid to spit a verse just as “fast and furious” as the young men making names for themselves in the hyper-masculine world of hip-hop, she was ahead of her time as she was inventing a new way for a young woman to be—vocal and spitting fire.
That flame under “Roxanne’s Revenge” set off a musical tsunami with the single selling 250,000 copies, which kicked open the floodgates. In a blink of an eye, other MCs got into the act creating almost 50 (12-inch) vinyl singles that volleyed back and forth in response to the original Roxanne rivalry. In short, the “Roxanne Wars” became an iconic chapter in the evolution of hip-hop, demonstrating its commercial potential and connective power. It was a point in hip-hop history that changed the game. Chuck D, of Public Enemy, compared the rap movement to news, saying that “Rap is Black America’s CNN,” and that the Roxanne Wars rap was early social media: a virtual dialogue. Roxanne Shanté was angry and her rap was full of raw fury, and this “fire” connected to the world. The cold hard facts are that she did not have a record company and therefore no royalties. Even after the song became famous, she was still just a broke girl in the projects,
struggling to get by.
It all begins with street cred (credibility), the only real currency, for a long time, that a rap artist worth her or his salt had to stand upon. Having street cred boiled down to living a hard life, unafraid of danger or violence. Not afraid of death. It also meant that they were personally acquainted with deep racism and
crippling poverty.
The movie opens in 1982, when she’s just 12, competing and winning in impromptu public-park battle raps to make a few bucks.
Life inside her own home is a challenge, with Shanté’s mother, Peggy (Nia Long), a strict disciplinarian who locks the door promptly at 9 p.m., even if her daughter is locked outside, a lesson she’s trying to teach her daughter about life. When Peggy engages in a loving relationship (Curtiss Cook) with a man she loves and trusts, she talks about moving out of the projects and into a house, and she presents him with her life savings of $20,000. As soon as we see the money, her dream represented in wadded worn bills, we think, “Run lady! This man is no good.” He takes the cash and
soon disappears.
It’s a tragedy that will be echoed in Shanté’s own terrible choice of men, although not before she records the song that takes over the airwaves. Her lifeline is rap and her ability to destroy in freestyle is one of the most exciting elements in this film. She’s ferocious and bold, and it’s crystal clear that she does not give a flying (expletive)!
The recording of “Roxanne’s Revenge,” a charmed moment in hip-hop history, occurs quite incidentally, when Marley (Kevin Phillips), a budding record producer, calls down to Shanté from an upstairs window. It’s his idea to have her record an answer track to “Roxanne, Roxanne,” which she does, and when she’s done, she has to get back to her dreary life.
She hits the touring circuit, appearing onstage with Biz Markie, but she blasts through her tour money, and that proves to be an issue once she gets locked into a relationship with Cross (Mahershala Ali), a local hustler with a pimp’s cold heart. He’s textbook evil and basically preying on a child, sweet one moment and violent the next. Their life together, for her, is hellish from the start. Then she becomes a mother. Later, as her fame continued to grow, during a photo shoot, a hip photographer begs Shanté to smile, saying “You’re too pretty not to be smiling.” Shanté’s reply: “I can’t move my
[expletive] jaw.”
The paradox is cruel. In “Roxanne Roxanne,” the heroine becomes a star—broke and alone—beaten and battered. That is the seed in which a strong, young mother grew. A mother who will do anything short of selling her soul to keep her child safe. That battle she wins and when she does, she finds her life. “Roxanne Roxanne” is a well-made film. It’s honest about the pain and price that Shanté paid and how hip-hop was born and raised. She used her words to get out, and she’s still talking to us, loud and clear. She’s using her gift and she’s winning.
“Roxanne Roxanne” stars Chanté Adams, Nia Long, Mahershala Ali, Elvis Nolasco, Kevin Phillips, Shenell Edmonds and Adam Horovitz. It is written and directed by Michael Larnell.