EXCERPT FROM NYTIMES -- By JON CARAMANICA THE less everyone around him said, the better Jamal Woolard knew he was doing.or several months beginning in November 2007 he would spend every day learning how to morph into Biggie Smalls (the murdered rapper also known as the Notorious B.I.G.) for the biopic “Notorious.”
Memorized his albums front to back. Watched concert footage and tapes
of old interviews. Practiced holding his head back, and at an angle.
Wondered why Biggie never took his sunglasses off. Did some stuff he
didn’t quite understand the meaning of at first: crawling around on the
floor like a cat, rapping while gripping his tongue.When he
arrived at the “Notorious” set, his likeness to Biggie was uncanny, and
unnerving. “The first time I went on set and saw him rehearse, I walked
out,” said the rapper Lil’ Cease, Biggie’s close friend. “It took a
while to get used to.” n a recent interview at Frank White, a Brooklyn cafe named for one
of Biggie’s alter egos, Mr. Woolard, also known as the rapper Gravy,
had his own explanation for the silence, gasps and tears he faced
during his transformation into Biggie. “Some people couldn’t stomach
it,” he said. “Puff” — Sean Combs,
who owns Bad Boy Records, Biggie’s record label — “couldn’t stay
around. He just couldn’t take it. But I felt like that’s my job. They
were hurting, but I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to give you what
you want.” And also what a film like “Notorious” absolutely
demands: an eerily credible re-creation of its protagonist. “If Biggie
doesn’t work, the movie doesn’t work,” said the film’s director, George
Tillman Jr. On Friday audiences and critics will get to decide if the
efforts of Mr. Woolard and his many coaches have paid off, which would
be a particularly impressive accomplishment given that the real Biggie
Smalls, born Christopher Wallace, died only 12 years ago — murdered in
March 1997 in Los Angeles in a still unsolved drive-by shooting — and
remains fresh in the minds of many. Mr. Woolard, 33, did not take
his opportunity lightly. “A responsibility,” he called it. Though
Biggie’s career was brief — he was 24 when he was killed, less than two
weeks before his second album was released — he remains one of rap’s
seminal figures, lauded for bringing emotional complexity to street
life, for his improbable sex appeal (Biggie stood 6 foot 3 and weighed
well over 300 pounds) and for his syrupy, intricate rhyme schemes. Mr.
Woolard, who had no previous acting experience, went to his audition in
character: Coogi sweater, wide black sunglasses, Kangol hat just so.
For the first few weeks of his training routine — “Biggie boot camp,”
it was called — he worked without pay; he still didn’t formally have
the role. “It was a good psychological trick,” he said. “Any day they
could have said, ‘Never mind.’ ” Every day he met with one or more of his advisers: Mimi Lieber, an
acting coach; Kate Wilson, a vocal coach at Juilliard; Tanisha Scott, a
choreographer; and several other informal teachers who lived the events
depicted in the film: Lil’ Cease; Biggie’s hype man, Money L; the music
producer Deric (D-Dot) Angelettie; and Biggie’s mother, Voletta Wallace.“I
felt like I sometimes intimidated him during the film,” Ms. Wallace
said. “I felt bad for that, but as a producer my job is to be there,”
which she was throughout filming, except for the scenes in Los Angeles
leading up to her son’s murder. (“She took a lot of tears,” Mr. Woolard
said of Ms. Wallace’s time on the set, “but that one was too much.”) CONTINUE READING..
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