Death of a Dynasty

REVIEW
Death of a Dynasty is Damon Dash’s slapstick parody of the industry that made him rich. Dash is the CEO of Roc-a-Fella records, home to hip-hop’s biggest seller: Jay Z. The film is a fictionalized account of a beef between Dash and Z over the party chick Picasso, played by the sometimes model, sometimes actress, always disconcertingly teenage looking Devon Aoki.

Dave Katz is a white writer who covers the black dominated world of New York rap for a magazine called The Mic. He’s a putz who can’t tell Riddick Bowe from Evander Holyfield but loves the music and the lifestyle and is trying desperately to be down. Was this not all in good fun, Jon Schecter and David Mays, The Harvard kids who founded The Source, might be calling their lawyers. But then again, so might about a hundred other rappers and music industry types. Anyway, he is offered an exclusive interview with the Roc-A-Fella crew. It is during his time spent with the absurdly misbehaving entourage that he uncovers the rift. He leaks the story to Dick James, played straight by the hilarious Charlie Murphy. As everyone parties in the Hamptons, the young reporter’s ego grows. He is fired by The Mic, but doesn’t care. In a stroke of good fortune, his life has become like the rap video’s he covets, all Armandale Vodka in the swimming pool and a United Colors of Benetton Cavalcade of bikini clad models.

Much fun is poked at other stars of the industry. Sean Combs commands his body guards to assault a group of children who call him Puff Daddy rather than P. Diddy. We are also introduced to the evil record executive Liar Schloen, a saran wrap-veiled reference to Def Jam’s Lior Cohen.

Gun violence erupts at a post-split press conference. Dash is shot, creating a media frenzy. But is this real, or a publicity stunt? Judging by the number of units moved in the wake of the event, a cynical viewer might guess the latter. It is around this time that the comedy, with its scenes paralleling actual violent events disturbingly closely, becomes a message vehicle. Yes, it hits you over the head, but the point made is valid. Hang in there as a viewer because the manipulation exposed is masterful and believable, if presented a little bluntly.

Cameos galore round out this energetic and schizoid hip-hop Spinal Tap. Even if you don’t laugh at every last in-joke (one could argue that the entire script is a rather large one,) easy humor is found in this parody of an industry that sometimes takes itself too seriously.