The Get Down, Part 1:
A Mythical Look at HipHop's Early Days

Release Date: August 12th, 2016
Number of Episodes: 6 (from 53-93 minutes long)
Created by: Baz Luhrmann & Stephen Adly Guirgis
Starring: Justice Smith, Shameik Moore, Herizen Guardiola, Jaden Smith, Skylan Brooks, T.J. Brown Jr., Jimmy Smits, Stefanée Martin, Shyrley Rodriguez, Mamoudou Athie, Giancarlo Esposito, Kevin Corrigan, Nas (vocals only)

The Get Down is unlike any other television/web series. Not only is it a musical, but it also features a subject that had yet to—until now—have an entire TV show dedicated to it: the birth and rise of HipHop. Set in a romanticized, alternate-universe version of New York City's South Bronx in the summer of 1977, a variety of mostly fictional characters populate a vibrant innercity atmosphere. With colourful and cartoonish flair, the dramatically and visually embellished tale illuminates a mythical world of DJs, rappers, graffiti artists, breakdancers, disco singers, and hustlers on both sides of the law. But it's also largely historically accurate, and includes some characters based on real-life 1970s New York figures such as the then soon-to-be mayor Ed Koch, and iconic HipHop originators Kool Herc and Grandmaster Flash.

I've long been fascinated with HipHop and have studied its origins extensively, so I approached this series with a mixture of eager anticipation and scepticism about the worthiness of one of its creators, Baz Luhrmann. He's the filmmaker responsible for postmodern, style-heavy films like Romeo + Juliet (1996) and Moulin Rouge (2001), which sometimes favour spectacle over substance. In the beginning (of this 6-episode Part 1), aesthetic extravagance supersedes story, with glamourized set design and flamboyant musical performances contrasting and somewhat undermining often gritty subject matter. The main players are mostly teenagers; a marginalized community of characters with big dreams who navigate an environment fraught with poverty, crime, and violence—but also creativity. Initially, the narrative details pertaining directly to HipHop evolution are the most interesting, whereas other elements are too often riddled with melodrama and heavy-handed stylization. As such, the first episode in particular (which is 93 minutes, while all others are about an hour each) is muddled in tone, with a mostly serious narrative that occasionally treads towards caricature, overacting, and absurd attempts at comedy.

Despite these initial shortcomings, it made for a promising effort that had room to grow—and needed to in order to do its sacred subject justice. Thankfully that promise is fulfilled as the series progresses, becoming thoroughly captivating midway through. The narrative components fall into place and the series finds itself as a unique work in which the historically true aspects are elevated to almost operatic proportions in this magical urban universe. By the end of the final episode I was left wanting more.

There's an interesting visual ingredient that enhances and mythicizes the story; punctuating the narrative are excerpts from what appears to be archival footage of the real 1977 New York, which then shift into the world of The Get Down. Each scene starts out in the same style of grainy newsreel footage before transitioning into clear images and rich colours—as if to say, "here is the real world of 1977 New York City, and then here we zoom in to our fictionalized, mythical, parallel-dimension version of it."

The story centers around Ezekiel "Zeke" Figuero (Justice Smith), an orphaned teen who lives with his aunt and uncle. A talented poet, and as book-smart as he is street-smart, Zeke pursues romance with Mylene Cruz (Herizen F. Guardiola), a neighbourhood girl who dreams of being a famous disco singer. Zeke's crew is the trio of Kipling brothers: Dizzee (Jaden Smith)—a graffiti artist, Ra-Ra (Skylan Brooks)—the voice of reason, and Boo-Boo (T.J. Brown, Jr.)—the youngest and most rambunctious of the bunch. The Kipling boys' older sister Yolanda (Stefanée Martin) is Mylene's best friend, and the rebellious, outspoken Regina (Shyrley Rodriguez) rounds out the girl crew.

Each episode features interludes of a grown Zeke performing to a concert hall crowd in 1996. His verses serve as flashback rap-narration, telling the story via his future MC persona, Mr. Books (so-named because of his intelligence). HipHop star Nas raps these lyrics, and in fact wrote all the raps that appear in the series. He also serves as one of the show's producers, and hosted a HipHop bootcamp for the cast during production, along with HipHop pioneers Kurtis Blow and Grandmaster Flash himself. Their involvement adds immeasurable legitimacy to the series as a whole.

Zeke and his pals engage in a number of lively adventures, such as travelling deep into gang territory to view a new piece by mysterious graffiti artist and renowned hood figure Shaolin Fantastic (Shameik Moore). An integral facet of 1970s Bronx culture is touched on here as they encounter a turf gang, the likes of those depicted in cult film The Warriors (1979) and documentary Rubble Kings (2015). Shaolin Fantastic (Shao, as he's called) turns out to be an almost superhero-like character who, in addition to being a talented graf artist, sells drugs for local gangsters, and aspires to be a DJ. He's assigned tasks by legendary Bronx DJ Grandmaster Flash (Mamoudou Athie), who calls him "grasshopper" as Kung-Fu masters do their protegés in martial arts films. One such task is to acquire a rare, limited edition remix record. Zeke seeks the same record to impress Mylene, forming a rivalry with Shao which soon progresses into friendship. Shao escorts Zeke and the Kipling boys to "The Get Down", which is, as Shao puts it, "the flyest secret underground party in the Bronx." At the jam, in an abandoned warehouse, Flash scratches and mixes on the turntables, MCs rip it on the microphones, b-boys and b-girls dance to the breakbeats, and the whole crowd romps with electrified energy.

"The Get Down" refers to a number of related things: the isolated breakbeat portion of a record (the funkiest, instrumental, drum-heavy part)—the section that breakdancers get down to, and MCs rap to. "The Get Down" is also what they call an underground party like the one we witness, in which DJs showcase their get down breaks. And "The Get Down" is the name of the entire culture surrounding these interlinked, emerging modes of creative expression—DJing, MCing, B-boying, Graffiti Art—before it becomes known as HipHop. Shaolin, Zeke, Dizzee, Ra-Ra, and Boo-Boo form a group, calling themselves "The Get Down Brothers", and Flash continues to give Shao chores to complete and riddles to solve, as DJ training. Through these assignments the audience gets lessons on HipHop DJing techniques before samplers and sequencers were invented, when cueing up and syncing records was a delicate art requiring a keen sense of timing and finely-tuned attention to minute song details.

In this world, rare records and bootleg tapes are precious contraband; there are rules to the game—some spoken, some not. A Grandmaster Flash bootleg tape surfaces, and the main characters undergo a quest to locate the source—a mysterious bootlegger known as "King of Cassettes". The search takes them to the South Bronx neighbourhood Morris Heights—the territory of Kool Herc, considered the father of HipHop. They go to Herc's building at 1520 Sedgwick Ave., which is, in real life, commonly regarded as the birthplace of HipHop since it's where Herc famously introduced his breakbeat technique at a party in August 1973, in the building's rec room. The mythical undertones of HipHop's origins are elevated here once again, as we get a glimpse into Herc rockin' a party in that very same room.

Multiple intertwining storylines develop, and more characters are introduced. Mylene's uncle Francisco Cruz, affectionately known as "Papa Fuerte" (Jimmy Smits) is a wealthy community organizer dedicated to building new housing in the South Bronx to replace its growing number of derelict, burned-out buildings. He has political ties to mayoral candidate Ed Koch, who's portrayed as a whiny, rabidly anti-graffiti schmuck. I don't know about the accuracy of other details of Koch's characterization here, but his anti-graffiti stance is well-known, as shown in the classic documentary film Style Wars (1983) where he appears as an aggressive opponent to the graffiti art community. Fuerte, in addition to being a business man, political organizer, and community leader, also embodies some qualities of gangsterism. He's a compelling, complex character; an all 'round mover-and-shaker who has his hand in a number of local scenes. 

Fuerte takes Mylene under his wing when she falls out with her father, Fuerte's brother, Pastor Ramon Cruz (Giancarlo Esposito)—a strict, conservative preacher who regards Mylene's desire to be a disco singer a sinful endeavour. Here we get a look into yet another aspect of New York culture—The Church. Fuerte sets Mylene up with washed-up producer Jackie Moreno (Kevin Corrigan) to produce her demo. The recording industry and the radio/DJ/club system of record promotion are detailed as Mylene seeks to put her song to market.

HipHop's four central creative elements of DJing, MCing, Graffiti Art, and Breakdancing are all touched on—as is the fifth element Street Knowledge, exhibited by Flash's rules and lessons, Shao's samurai-like code, and Zeke's intellect. It all starts coming together for The Get Down Brothers when they rehearse for a DJ battle, with Shao as the DJ, Zeke as the lead MC, and the others as backup rappers and dancers. Meanwhile, to make money for better DJ equipment and more records to further his DJ repertoire, Shao works for Fat Annie (Lillias White)—the neighbourhood gangster queenpin and proprietress of a local nightclub. Shao is respected on the streets but is relegated to petty henchman status in Fat Annie's big-time criminal world—a sacrifice he makes in pursuit of his DJ art. Here surfaces one of the show's most captivating themes; contradiction within coinciding worlds, as the aggressive environment that Shao and the others inhabit often requires extreme measures of survival.

And the show starts getting really good when these layers of contradiction intensify. Papa Fuerte offers Zeke an internship with NYC's Fiscal Control Committee, who Fuerte's in business with. The committee backs Koch for mayor and wants a black youth representative to showcase support, promising Fuerte $10 million if he delivers the South Bronx vote to Koch. Although Fuerte knows the committee is fully corrupt—made up of the very power players responsible for cutting Bronx services and burning buildings for insurance money—he wants the money to build new housing. Zeke, no fool himself, also knows this, but Fuerte persuades him to be his guy on the inside, to play the game with him to get what they need to help their community.

Mylene's disco song comes to represent another kind of undercover action. Pastor Ramon is rigid in his regard of the evils of disco culture, threatening Mylene's pursuit of showbiz success. So Moreno comes up with the idea of writing a gospel disco song, under the guise of freeing the sinners in disco clubs. With Mylene on lead vocals, and Yolanda and Regina as her backup singers The Soul Madonnas, they deliver "Set Me Free"—a sexual, "sinful" disco hymn veiled within a church-compatible form.

This theme of contradiction is shown time and again as the characters navigate myriad obstacles; Mylene struggles between the conservative religious world and disco life, Zeke struggles between MC aspirations and political career opportunities, and Shao struggles between a life of crime and DJ success. Without resources possessed by the more privileged, these characters must use what they have to get what they need—creative realization. The inextricable link between oppression and liberation, wherein conditions of disenfranchisement birth motivation for change, has long been a big part of America's story; a textured fabric of cultural forces comprising a spectrum with heightened extremes of despair and hope, demoralization and empowerment. This theme is indeed prominent in HipHop, and has contributed to its dynamic as an enthralling arts culture; a vital, creative movement formed in one of the most derelict urban areas of America by people with a number of intersecting factors of oppression working against them—they're young, they're black, and they're poor.

In the last episode, politics, crime, and music all converge in a riveting climax. The last 20 minutes in particular are nothing short of brilliant, as all character arcs and plotlines culminate into a multilayered musical HipHop drama unlike anything we've seen before. Zeke stands to endorse Koch, a mayoral candidate who represents policies that have left his neighbourhood impoverished, and who now vows to eliminate some of the positive cultural elements that environment has produced. As Zeke faces mounting pressure to sell out, questions arise: can he reconcile the contradictory aspects of his situation, honour the youth community he belongs to and uphold their street code, while simultaneously maintaining his cover in the presence of authorities?

By the end of Part 1, The Get Down irons out the problems of its early episodes and effectively finds its groove. It makes one yearn for a return to the truly underground, urban folk art and culture that's displayed here, when HipHop was in a fresh, exhilarating stage of development—before its commercialization. South Bronx warehouse parties, dances, park jams, DJing, breakdancing, graffiti art, rapping, and street codes intersect with New York political power structures, drug dealing scenes, the Manhattan art/queer/fashion world, the disco club environment, the recording industry, and gang culture in fascinating ways. Part 2 is set to air in spring 2017, and I can hardly wait.
• Nik Dobrinsky / Boy Drinks Ink
August 21st, 2016