A brief history of screen hip-hop

In the beginning, the Lord gave us Charlie Ahearn’s seminal portrait of old-school tagging and emceeing in the South Bronx, and lo, it was good. Hip-hop cinema starts here.

No disrespect to the equally frrresh Beat Street, but for those outside the outer boroughs, this head-spinnin’ flick was their first exposure to hip-hop dance culture.

A who’s who of rap all-stars (the Beastie Boys! Kurtis Blow! Run-D.M.C.!) turn this backstage drama into a class-of-’85 yearbook. That baby face with the beatbox? LL Cool J.

For the first time, hip-hop figures in a critically respected drama—and even plays a part in the climax. Public Enemy’s signature “Fight the Power” is introduced.

A majestically enraged portrait of South Central L.A., John Singleton’s tragedy also boasts the first creditable dramatic performance by a rapper, Ice Cube.

In a vindication for good taste, Vanilla Ice’s screen debut is savaged by reviewers and—more importantly—ignored by the paying public.

After terrorizing mainstream radio and Tipper Gore’s parental watchdogs, gangsta rap finds humorous expression in Chris Rock’s parody (which leads to tons more fans).

Great cinema it is not, but Master P’s lo-fi self-portrait provided the first visual iconography for the “Dirty South”—a region that was about to blow up big-time.

Video director Hype Williams cast gruff MCs Nas, DMX and Method Man in his slick crime-pays drama—and captured the look of the East Coast’s ’90s bling obsession.

Rap’s most fatalistic feud is examined in Nick Broomfield’s doc on the two rap stars; it’s as good an autopsy as we’re likely to get on this hip-hop tragedy.

The peak of Eminem’s popularity comes with this surprisingly moving autobiographical drama, one that earns hip-hop its first Oscar, for “Lose Yourself.”