Review of The Run-DMC Story – Honest and Raw TV

Whether it’s a documentary or a biopic, the heavy involvement of the subject can sometimes turn a potential masterpiece into a misstep. Take, for instance, Queen’s self-portrayal in “Bohemian Rhapsody” or Ice Cube and Dr Dre’s contribution to “Straight Outta Compton”. Both turned their subjects into almost untouchable figures. In stark contrast, documentaries like “Metallica: Some Kind of Monster” or Anton Corbijn’s “Control” showcased their subjects without giving them producer credits, resulting in engrossing and multifaceted portraits.

Thus, the appearance of the words “executive producers Joseph ‘Rev Run’ Simmons and Darryl ‘DMC’ McDaniels” at the beginning of the Run-DMC documentary “Kings From Queens” could be alarming. Luckily, Run-DMC’s commitment to honesty shines through. Throughout the three-hour series, the group’s surviving members candidly discuss their flaws, insecurities, and struggles with substance abuse. It’s refreshing to see DMC openly share his battles with alcoholism and suicidal thoughts, as well as his love for Sarah McLachlan and Spider-Man comics. Instead of macho posturing, he channels his inner Peter Parker before performances.

The documentary traces the group’s origins back to Queens, New York, where Run and DMC, exemplary students in a city caught up in corruption, sold their cherished comic books to buy turntables. They spent every free moment honing their rapping and DJing skills, aiming to impress Run’s older brother, Russell Simmons, the co-founder of Def Jam, in hopes of landing a record deal.

The arrival of Jam Master Jay added street cred to the group. Ad-Rock from Beastie Boys recalls, “Jay was the nicest and had the most beautiful smile but could fuck you up quick.” The documentary doesn’t shy away from playful edits, often cutting from a boastful interviewee to another saying, “Yeah, he was the intern,” adding a layer of honest humor.

The first episode highlights the group’s rise to fame, skillfully blending talking heads and classic hip-hop beats. The second episode delves into their peak, featuring global tours, Live Aid performances, and hits like “My Adidas”, “It’s Tricky”, and “It’s Like That”. Interestingly, despite the success of their Aerosmith collaboration “Walk This Way”, the group later admitted they disliked the song. They argue that Aerosmith needed them for relevancy, not the reverse, and that the song’s disconnect with their core audience contributed to their eventual decline.

During a time when they should have been thriving, Run became disillusioned with hip-hop’s turn towards gangster rap and in 1995, was ordained as a Pentecostal minister, adopting the moniker Rev Run. Meanwhile, DMC faced deteriorating mental health, and in 2002, tragedy struck when Jam Master Jay was murdered at 37. The third episode soberly tackles this loss, allowing Jay’s widow and children to share their memories, interspersed with touching home videos. The heartfelt recollections from peers like LL Cool J and Beastie Boys underline the profound impact of Jay’s death.

Despite the documentary’s deep dive into racial politics and its authentic portrayal of Run-DMC’s legacy, Russell Simmons’ presence is conspicuously glossed over. Allegations of sexual harassment and assault against him, all of which he denies, are notably absent. His relaxed demeanor as he shares memories from hip-hop’s early days feels jarring and inappropriate.

It’s unfortunate that the series about a group known for their unfiltered honesty sanitizes one of its key figures. Nevertheless, the story of Run-DMC itself remains compelling and unvarnished. As LL Cool J aptly states, “If there was a hip-hop Mount Rushmore with five heads on it, then they’d take up three of the spots.”

• Kings from Queens: The Run-DMC Story is on Sky Documentaries and Now

Source: The Guardian