BLENDER 2.2: FOCUS: LL COOL J... Mr. Smith Goes to Hollywood
text by david wollock
photos and video by tim haile
music by ll cool j courtesy of xxxx records
ARTICLE:
Monday night, 8:30 PM.
I fiddle with the volume control on my TV as the frame tightens on James Todd Smith, a.k.a. rap star LL Cool J, a.k.a. Marion Hill in NBC's new hit sit-com, In the House.
Sure, the baseball cap and the pushed-up leg of MarionΓÇÖs warm-up pants may hint at street-savvy "down-ness,ΓÇ¥ but it's still a far cry from the microphone-wielding, Kangol-hat-wearing, ripped six-pack- of-a-chest-baring Cool James, who became rap's first superstar sex symbol some years ago.
CUT TO:
The Hollywood sign looms large above the parking lot of Sunset-Gower studios, where we meet Mr. Smith between takes. His once-cut torso has picked up some meat and a pair of silver wire-framed specs lend a splash of sophistication to his seasoned b-boy stance. HeΓÇÖs due back on the set in a half an hourΓÇönot much time to drill an artist whose decade-plus career in hip hop nearly encompasses the art form's entire history, but LLΓÇÖs recent emergence as a sit-com actor merits a whole new set of questions, and the big guy is happy to set the record straight.
CUTAWAY:
After his last LP sank in a sea of tepid reviews (while still hitting platinumΓÇögo figure), LLΓÇÖs sixth and latest endeavor, Mr. Smith, is again making waves. Whether heΓÇÖs bellowing ego-stroking declarations of his invincibility on the mic or turning up the heat with ΓÇ£Doin' It,ΓÇ¥ the current single, or even crooning his way through ΓÇ£Hey LoverΓÇ¥ with Boyz II Men, the man is clearly back in form.
Besides, heΓÇÖs gearing up for his ΓÇÿ96 tour.
FLASHBACK:
In the past, you may have seen him drive on stage at the American Music Awards, flash pots exploding around him like a scene from Apocalypse Now! , or something, but these days, the seasoned, more mature LL declares that on his upcoming tour heΓÇÖs going to dispense with much of the choreographed fanfare of his past stadium shows. ΓÇ£I think this year, the people need to find out who I am as an artist,ΓÇ¥ he says. ΓÇ£I donΓÇÖt think I need all those bells and whistles. IΓÇÖve been doing so much bells and whistles these past ten years, I just want to get busy! Raw! Just me and a DJ cutting up records. Give ΓÇÿem 30 or 40 minutes and call it a day.ΓÇ¥
Rap star. Actor. Japanese car afficionado. The former Kangol-wearing punk is comfortable wearing many different hats in HollywoodΓÇöand right now, the baseball-cap-sporting Marion Hill is due back on the set.
We all file back to the parking lot, where LL stops to fish some stuff out of his car trunk. He turns to us grinning. ΓÇ£Hey! Did you check out my car?ΓÇ¥ he motions proudly at his black Accord. ΓÇ£Three hundred dollars a month, ba-by! ItΓÇÖs sloppy, but I love it! WeΓÇÖre keepinΓÇÖ it real here . . .keeping it real, kids!ΓÇ¥
His voice bellows across the lot as he takes the mickey out of a phrase that so many rap fans and acts of today spout defiantly. He knows that his TV exposure and latest two radio-friendly singles are going to do little for his street credibility (hip-hop diehards don't appreciate their heroes selling millions of records, preferring them to stay underground and unadulterated by success instead), but in Mr. Cool JΓÇÖs world the bottom line is thisΓÇöheΓÇÖs still cool. Way cool.
He accepts crossover success, heΓÇÖs not afraid to laugh at himself and he doesnΓÇÖt feel compelled to drop his first royalty check of ΓÇÿ96 on a down payment for a Benz. In short, he'll still answer to LL, but these days you can also call him Mr. Smith.
Now, thatΓÇÖs keepinΓÇÖ it real.
ARTICLE ENDS
hyperlink = a far cry
The gold-braided chains "thick enough to tow cars" are long gone. He's no longer the hardest motherf--ker on the block, whose fierce 1985 debut, Radio, endeared him to core rap fans throughout the country. Nor is he the same hip-hop poster boy who honey-coated the pop/crossover airwaves with rap's first ballad, "I Need Love," in '87.
Not by a long shot.
These days, the Hollis, Queens, native shacks up in Los Angeles with his wife and three kids, and drives a Honda V6 to and from the In the House set, while juggling a concurrent career as recording artist.
hyperlink = history
When he talks about his music, LLΓÇÖs voice jumps ten decibels as if someoneΓÇÖs just plugged him into a power socket and switched him on. He clearly gets a rush from talking about the "game that put him on the map" and cleared his path to stardom.
He started rapping when he was nine. At age 16, his hard-hitting slice of wax, "I Can't Live Without My Radio," launched fledgling label Def Jam into national prominence. His five past albums all went platinum and spawned a bevy of hip-hop anthems, including his Grammy-winning "Mama Said Knock You Out."
In other words, he's large. Probably the biggest solo artist of the genre. And he knows it.
hyperlink = sitcom actor
On In the House, LL plays a single, sidelined football hero who takes in a jaded working woman (Debbie Allen) and her young son as boarders. Imagine an ΓÇ£urbanizedΓÇ¥ version of Who's the Boss?, with a hipper, sharper lead guy. Last season, the series often snagged a bigger audience than The Fresh Prince, which occupies the timeslot immediately before it, and the fact that NBC have put it up against Melrose Place shows considerable faith in the program.
hyperlink = sharper lead guy
LLΓÇÖs acting chops are reasonably well honed. Before attaining his rap star status, he cameoed in the 1985 B-flick Krush Groove, portraying a street punk looking for a record deal (not a huge dramatic challenge), and later appeared in The Hard Way and Toys. These appearances led to bigger roles in recent made-for-cable features, Right to Remain Silent and Out of Sync. Like fellow rappers-turned-actors Ice-T, Ice Cube, Will Smith and Queen Latifah, LLΓÇÖs larger-than-life persona translated well to celluloid from the get go.
