Noted photographer David LaChapelle makes his feature directorial debut with this documentary on a new facet of street culture in South Central Los Angeles. In 1992, after long-simmering racial tensions in Los Angeles erupted in riots following the verdicts in the Rodney King trial, a man named Tommy Johnson sought to spread a new message in a new way to the city's African-Americans. Creating a character called Tommy the Clown, Johnson developed an act that combined hip-hop-flavored comedy and dancing with an anti-gang and anti-violence message. Johnson's performances became wildly popular in South Central -- so much so that at one point, 50 different groups inspired by Johnson's example were performing in the area. In time, Johnson's loose-limbed dance style inspired a new wave of hip-hop street dancing called "krumping," a wildly athletic style in which arms, legs, and bodies fly with a frenzied abandon that moves at almost inhuman speeds. Rize follows the birth of clown dancing and krumping in South Central, and records how many young people have adopted the dance as a style of competition, offering a safer and healthier alternative to the gang culture that has long dominated Los Angeles. Rize premiered at the 2005 Sundance Film Festival. ~ Mark Deming, All Movie Guide
Review by All Movie Guide
All Movie Guide
is neutral about it.
The subject matter of Rize may be familiar to some as the target of a famous
South Park parody, or as the central activity in
You Got Served, the failed fiction-film treatment of competitive urban dancing (which that classic
South Park episode also skewers). But only in the documentary format -- where the moves aren't, nor could they possibly be, choreographed -- can a viewer truly appreciate the whiplash bursts of adrenaline known as krumping. Even those who think they understand the scene may not be aware that this electric form originated, more or less, with a man in clown makeup. Rize not only explains that apparent paradox, but goes far deeper into the surrounding Los Angeles youth culture -- chosen by many as an alternative to gang violence -- than it might need to. Why wouldn't it need to? Because the phenomenon David LaChappelle's film captures is so vibrant, so unpredictable, and so enthrallingly watchable, it would work almost as well with no narrative spine at all. The fascination of watching body parts flail -- in all their incomprehensible, improvisational brilliance -- never dwindles. It is, however, somewhat disappointing that the film closes with a Hollywood-style climax, a dance-off known as Tommy the Clown's Battle Zone. The essence of clowning and krumping is that they channel the emotional landscape of an individual dancer, making them too subjective to be compared qualitatively, and it's often difficult to determine why one side is awarded victory over the other, except for the relative boisterousness of the crowd. Most of this film's viewers won't have that problem, wanting to cheer all the participants in Rize with equal vigor. Not only are they genius performers, but they stand triumphant over other life choices that operate perilously close to their arena. ~ All Movie Guide