There are probably a million quotes about beauty that I would love to scan through. Quips by poets, musicians, scientists, that talk about where true beauty lies and comes from, how beauty is formed, how to judge and appreciate beauty. And not one of them could come close to what I have seen. If I were to see the universe flower into being with my very eyes, watching gamma rays and x-radiation form, planets come violently into being, and even see the birth of life itself—I would still cite another thing as being far more elegant, far more beautiful. Far more advanced. This is Hip Hop Locos. Class has no say on its affairs.
I wish to summarize the plot, save for the fact that almost no plot exists. We are informed in the opening credits that our two heroes are Unodoz and J10, who are two rappers that want to break into the hip-hop industry, by killing a bunch of drug dealers, robbing them, and then using the profits from selling stolen drugs to buy an album deal. Immediately we are subjected to a rap that makes absolutely no sense, followed by a grainy almost-1920s-like shot of what seems to be a convenience store camera showing a guy talking to some other guy, and then killing him by stabbing him with something which we later learn is a screwdriver. The dialogue and the film style hit you at the exact same time. I’ll deviate to explain, because something like this is begging for analysis…
First, the dialogue. Here’s a quick sample: “Yo, homes, yeah, I mean, homes, ay, y’know wut I’m sayin’, homes, yeah? Fuck that motherfucking shit homes, yeah, ay, y’know, homes? Like, man, homes, ay? You know that motherfucker sold me some motherfucking shit that was shit and motherfucking, you know what I’m sayin’? Ay? Homes? Yeah? Homes?” Dry, rinse, and repeat for seventy minutes. IT NEVER STOPS. NEVER. J10 and Unodoz are babbling geniuses—not morons, geniuses. They take drunk, high, lunatic nonsense to a goddamn art form. The audience I had when I watched it could not stop laughing. It is dangerous. You can get high and poisoned off this stuff. You may in fact throw up something that is blue and fleshy. It is your new spawn, and you must take care of it. Just wait till you get to the choking scene. Oh dear God, someone help.
On a slightly creepier note, I swear this movie is a little suspicious. Sure, the cocaine bags are obviously powdered sugar. The weed may be real, but I don’t mind. What scares me is the fact that this movie is almost trying too hard to look like a real movie. Like, they dubbed the music in much later and threw in some special effects. Because I’m fairly sure that Hip Hop Locos is not staged. The death scenes are hauntingly realistic, and the out-of-focus shots, along with the ghostly absence of sound effects in some scenes and complete loss of image in others is beyond lazy editing. There is something more here. From what I can surmise this movie was Shot-on-Video (SOV) but with a camera that may have been stolen from someone’s grave. Like I said, occasionally we are left with no sound, only blurry, smashed-up B&W video. And sometime we only hear sound, or are just left with empty blackness. Faces are distorted by accident and cuts are made by taping the actual film together. During these cuts, signified by bursts of static, I was tempted to pause because I swear I saw some sort of face in there…
There is no ending. They kill their fourth drug dealer by slapping him to death—no joke, they slap him to death. Then another guy runs with a shotgun and they yell at each other for three minutes. We see one last quick rap before the video cuts mid-sentence and the credits roll. (The credits thank God Himself for helping with the movie!) We can assume that if any of this really happened, the guy with the shotgun died. He is probably not in a good place.
I found this movie both hilarious and chilling. It is a surreal unstuck mess of a film that cannot be properly comprehended, and therefore we just laugh at it, because our brains assume that that is the point. At the same time, it may not have been an act. I wonder if maybe the producers knew I watched this. Maybe they’re watching me, now. I am legitimately frightened. It was just all too similar to those old Internet tales about the cursed tapes or snuff films. (I know my way around the Creepypasta Wiki. I know I’m doomed.) Thus, if I recommend it, you will probably die.
The only problem with that is that it’s the best movie ever. So you have to see it. Trust me. You have to see it. Death by serial-killing rappers is fine, because this is incredible.