Ernest Dickerson’s Juice 30 Years in Retrospect: A One-Stop Physiological Thriller & Hood Tale
“Q! Don’t let me go!”
These are the last chilling words viewers hear from a reckless teenager turned psychopathic juvenile delinquent, Bishop, as his life hangs in the hands of his best friend on some odd story-high rooftop. Shortly after, the screaks of premature death on a set of consequences echo through our ears, yet sadness and a strange sense of relief are felt for our protagonist, Quincy (also known as Q). Before fading to black, the question of morality that comes to mind is would you have let him go? Would you entrust your very hand to a man who tried to murder you in front of a crowd of witnesses in an elevator just minutes prior, or would you still see him as your best friend? And what does “having the juice” Contextualizing the horrific scene in which Bishop falls to his death, it is clear that loyalty to detrimental circumstances was an ongoing theme in art and life that plagued Black culture during the 1990s. The organization of gangs in poverty-stricken communities has crossed over from its 80s developmental phase, coinciding with the cultural evolution of hip-hop. During a period that represents the “Golden Age” of black music and the budding of New African-American Cinema, famed cinematographer Ernest R. Dickerson translated a screenplay written by him and partner Gerard Brown nine years prior to fit the mold of 1992 (Khal). Not much adjusting was needed to adapt to early 90s Black culture — which was somewhat of a wretched realization — as violence in the streets only intensified. An emerging rapper/actor legend, Tupac Shakur, who portrayed Bishop in Juice, describes the meeting of hip-hop and Juice perfectly: “It’s not a Hip-Hop movie. It’s a real good movie that happens to have Hip-Hop in it…” (Williams). Quite frankly, I strongly agree with Mr. Shakur’s insightful yet simplistic summary.
Originally released on January 17, 1992, Juice is reality rap visualized, reporting on the story of four teenage friends — Bishop, Raheem, Steel, and Quincy — in Harlem who are in a gang called the Wreckin’ Crew that dabble in crime life and skip out on education. However, when the four friends begin to grow in different directions, specifically Q, who finds refuge in DJing, the tale of unification and brotherhood turns into a twisted pursuit of power or “the juice” from corner store robbery gone wrong. The power that consumes Bishops leads to betrayal, violence, death, and the unthinkable to those closest to him. Although all these characters are wonderfully nuanced and have common dynamics found in friend groups, the interesting playout of Bishop’s character is how drastically he transformed from protagonist to antagonist within fifteen minutes of his introduction. The audience initially sympathizes when we see a glimpse of his life, specifically his relationship with his father, who showed visual trauma of being sexually assaulted in prison. However, Bishop’s speedy change in perception is an analogy of how Black men are viewed in society when hailing from complex environments and peculiar upbrings that are distinctively circumstantial. Raheem, who suffered a premature death at the hands of Bishop, represents the regulator or the father figure of the crew — ironically, a teenage absent father himself. Steel represents the slight innocence of the inner-city boy who hangs with the wrong crowd — morality still lies within. Quincy represents escapism and the desire to rise from given circumstances. Certainly, one can argue that Wreckin’ Crew in totality is a reimagining or evolution of the Blackbuck/Black brute (and Pinkney in the case of Steele), which in this case would be the modern-day “thug.” I rebel against this theory about the situation of our characters; they are simply an example of becoming a product of their environment. From my understanding, the realities of young Black inner-city men cannot be stereotypes. It is only when these portrayals become frequently monotonous is when they have crossed the stereotypical threshold. Yes, the four young males were “…out to raise havoc…[and] setting out on a rampage full of Black rage,” namely Bishop (Bogle). But, that was their given circumstance infused with their individuality as humans, not a monothetic trope. Bishop was simply the Black villain that Hollywood could not comprehend after Boyz in the Hood’s somewhat optimistic ending. In the former, there was no positive way out.
Although the defiance of stereotypes and applaudable character development, the camera work of Juice separates it from other moments of the new African American cinema wave, such as New Jack City. One may notice a Spike Lee quality related to the cinematography of Juice simply because director Ernest Dickerson was once Lee’s longtime collaborator, working on notable films such as School Daze and Do the Right Thing. Style was at the forefront of Dickerson’s mind. The film was written when he was attempting to find work as a photographer in the early 80s (Khal). Dickerson’s visual mind shines particularly the best in a color-coated nightclub scene where Q competes at the DJ battle he auditions for at the beginning of the film. Not only are various low and high-angle shots used in this scene, but Dickerson also uses tone as symbolism. As the competition heats up, red-related hue light creates movement at a high frequency. Another example of cinematic brilliance within Juice occurs during the scene in which Q watches Bishop — who murdered Raheem — comfort Raheem’s mother at the repass in utter disgust. While the two have an intense stare Bishop is still hugging his mother — zooming of the camera lens is used between back-and-forth cuts to personify unexplainable anger and enemy status between the two former friends. Dickerson’s choice of color use, quick cuts, and diverse camera angles had views at the edge of their seat and fed into the darker overlay and physiological side effect, which coincided with its respective narrative, even advancing it at moments. If Juice were shot like another run-of-the-mill “hood movie,” I would not have the longlisting discussion that still takes up space thirty years later. This applies to its sonic landscape as well. For instance, during Q’s final chase sequence with Bishop, who attempts to execute him in the middle of a party, Cypress Hill’s “How I Could Just Kill a Man” communicates the disorientation and survival mindset of a wounded Q alongside the flashing lights and documentary style shots that almost take on a point of view perspective. Ernest’s use of silence before this series of violent acts on Bishop’s part was a brilliant use of rhythmic montage in the scene’s sonic landscape. Its transition was Bishop’s firing of the gun, and answer to Q’s rhetorical question, cuing to the autobiographical song just as the crowed elevator doors open, inciting the pandemonium of movement for the final pacing of the film.
Black culture has seen the story of gang-affiliated peer pressure play out respectively when showcasing the plight of inner-city males, mainly on the West side of the country. Ernest Dickerson’s Juice highlighted the plight of the east side of the country, authentically choosing Harlem as his shooting location. Within the culture in which it is deemed a cinematic classic, its genre is identified in its original state — which is a crime thriller — or its suggested classification as simply horror; this response varies viewer-to-viewer, and even generation by generation as new amylases are created. The film goes on record for having the “…first true contemporary African America movie…” created by Hank Shocklee and Public Enemy’s Bomb Squad (Williams). Its hip-hop-oriented soundtrack quickly became significant in Black music culture only furthered its establishment in hip-hop culture along with feature stars within the same community such as Tupac Shakur (Bishop), Queen Latifah (the judge of the DJ competition), and Treach of Naughty by Nature (Radames’ homie). As mentioned by the entire main cast in an onset interview: “The entire rap industry was down with this!” (“1991–2PAC ‘Stay in The Scene’ [HD Interview]” 00:16:55). Thus, earning its stripes as a legendary hip-hop film and ranks among the notable such as House Party, Poetic Justice, and New Jack City to name a few.
Although the latter and Boyz in the Hood were its predecessors, Juice broke down Black horror barriers (a genre that truly did not exist until the mid-1990s) and allowed for similar plots with nefarious endings to take up major picture settings shortly after — such as the Hughes Brothers’ Menace II Society (released in 1993) and Jason’s Lyric (released in 1994), which mesh romance with great tragedy and self-destruction. We see Q in Caine and Jason. We see Bishop in O-Dog and Joshua. Juice has created an environment in Black cinema where tragedy can hold space without traditional trauma that constantly suppresses truths within African-American storytelling. Dickerson was successful in remaining multi-dimensional and not monolithic while reporting on the lives of young Black inner-city boys thrust into adulthood due to their “pressure cooker environment.” He successfully launched the careers of Omar Epps, Jermaine Hopkins, and Khalil Kain into the mainstream and fueled the already established careers of Samuel Jackson and Tupac Shakur. The message of paying special attention to the Black youth and steering their peer-pressure-hounded lives in the proper direction is what remains, not the criminal activity as a result, which is unheard of during the dominant “gangsta rap” culture. Juice proved Ernest Dickerson to be a crucial pioneer in altering the Black aesthetics in filmmaking during the 1990s by defying all stereotypes and letting truth lead to way.
References
Bogle, Donal. Toms, Coons, Mulattoes, Mammies, and Bucks: An Interpretive History of Black in America Films. 5th ed., Bloomsbury Academic, 2016.
Dickerson, Ernest, director. Juice. Paramount Pictures, 1992.
Khal. “Know the Ledge: ‘Juice’ Director Ernest R. Dickerson Reflects on Controversial Debut.” Complex. 17 Jan. 2022. https://www.complex.com/pop-culture/ernest-dickerson-juice-30th-anniversary-interview/. Accessed 23 Sept. 2022.
Stereo Williams. “‘Juice’ At 30: An Urban Psychological Thriller Dressed in ‘Hood Movie’ Clothes.” Rock the Bells. https://rockthebells.com/articles/juice-is-an-urban-thriller-in-hood-movie-clothes/. Accessed 23 Sept. 2022.
“1991–2PAC ‘Stay in The Scene’ [HD Interview].” YouTube. 4 Dec. 2018, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zMalCssBtNg&t=5s&ab_channel=OutlawImmortal. Accessed 23 Sept. 2022.
