Showing posts with label Mike Tyson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mike Tyson. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
A Circle of Friends: Ali, Malcolm X, Jim Brown and Sam Cooke
Greater forces were concerned about what these friendships meant
'What If?': Black Visionaries, Cultural Icons and a Circle of Friendship
by Mark Anthony Neal | TheLoop21.com
The recent documentary A Night in Vegas directed by Reggie Rock Bythewood highlights a little known personal relationship between the late actor and rapper Tupac Shakur and boxer Mike Tyson. Shakur was murdered in Las Vegas after a Tyson boxing match fourteen years ago this September 13th. That the two men—iconic figures in the 1990s and two of the most visible representations of Hip-Hop generation masculinity—maintained their friendship beyond the glare of celebrity journalism, even as they were also linked by their criminal convictions for sexual assault and rape, was the most amazing aspect of their relationship.
The friendship between Tyson and Shakur raises questions about what other historical figures had relationships that remain largely unknown to the general public, but offer insight to how such figures envisioned translating their fame, wealth and relative political influence into meaningful engagements on behalf of Black communities.
At the height of the Civil Right Rights Movement in the 1960s, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. emerged not only as the titular head of the movement, but the most well known freedom fighter in the world. When King was weighed down by the challenges of his vocation, there were few, if any, who could have fully understood what he was going through. The isolation that King experienced because of his unique role in history is not unusual for those who are essentially peerless—the reality that those of us who can readily locate our peers, often take for granted.
The lack of a legitimate peer-group, for example is what fueled comedian Steve Harvey’s meltdown last fall on Donnie McClurkin’s show, as he tearfully admitted that he simply didn’t have anybody to talk to. Earlier in Harvey’s career, the King’s of Comedy tour with the late Bernie Mac, Cedric the Entertainer and DL Hughley perhaps allowed him to find a community of peers, but given the demands from family, individual career goals, and even personality conflicts, such networks can be difficult to sustain over long periods of time. What if, for example, Lauryn Hill had access to such a network a decade ago?
Ironically for King, his most logical peer in the early 1960s was the man that was publically positioned as his ideological opposite, Malcolm X. The men were hyper aware of each other—King’s non-violent strategy was regularly targeted when Malcolm X played the ideological dozens—and also understood how they each benefitted and were limited by each other. In other words they needed each other—King more so than Malcolm X—in order to effectively reach their constituencies.
We can only imagine how the two might have developed a real friendship and understanding of each other’s political passions if they would have had access to the technology that we take for granted now, like text-messaging. Indeed would such a relationship been allowed to exist, given the political implications of the two most well know Black leaders of their era, working in concert with other, even behind the scenes?
by Mark Anthony Neal | TheLoop21.com
The recent documentary A Night in Vegas directed by Reggie Rock Bythewood highlights a little known personal relationship between the late actor and rapper Tupac Shakur and boxer Mike Tyson. Shakur was murdered in Las Vegas after a Tyson boxing match fourteen years ago this September 13th. That the two men—iconic figures in the 1990s and two of the most visible representations of Hip-Hop generation masculinity—maintained their friendship beyond the glare of celebrity journalism, even as they were also linked by their criminal convictions for sexual assault and rape, was the most amazing aspect of their relationship.
The friendship between Tyson and Shakur raises questions about what other historical figures had relationships that remain largely unknown to the general public, but offer insight to how such figures envisioned translating their fame, wealth and relative political influence into meaningful engagements on behalf of Black communities.
At the height of the Civil Right Rights Movement in the 1960s, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. emerged not only as the titular head of the movement, but the most well known freedom fighter in the world. When King was weighed down by the challenges of his vocation, there were few, if any, who could have fully understood what he was going through. The isolation that King experienced because of his unique role in history is not unusual for those who are essentially peerless—the reality that those of us who can readily locate our peers, often take for granted.
The lack of a legitimate peer-group, for example is what fueled comedian Steve Harvey’s meltdown last fall on Donnie McClurkin’s show, as he tearfully admitted that he simply didn’t have anybody to talk to. Earlier in Harvey’s career, the King’s of Comedy tour with the late Bernie Mac, Cedric the Entertainer and DL Hughley perhaps allowed him to find a community of peers, but given the demands from family, individual career goals, and even personality conflicts, such networks can be difficult to sustain over long periods of time. What if, for example, Lauryn Hill had access to such a network a decade ago?
Ironically for King, his most logical peer in the early 1960s was the man that was publically positioned as his ideological opposite, Malcolm X. The men were hyper aware of each other—King’s non-violent strategy was regularly targeted when Malcolm X played the ideological dozens—and also understood how they each benefitted and were limited by each other. In other words they needed each other—King more so than Malcolm X—in order to effectively reach their constituencies.
We can only imagine how the two might have developed a real friendship and understanding of each other’s political passions if they would have had access to the technology that we take for granted now, like text-messaging. Indeed would such a relationship been allowed to exist, given the political implications of the two most well know Black leaders of their era, working in concert with other, even behind the scenes?
Read the Full Essay @ theLoop21.com
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Iron Mike Tyson & Tupac, Friendship and Tragedy
Reggie Bythewood's One Night In Vegas isn’t your typical Tuesday night ESPN viewing
All Eyez on Vegas: Iron Mike Tyson & Tupac, Friendship and Tragedy
by Stephane Dunn | TheLoop21.com
Take one controversial former heavyweight superstar (really the last to captivate American popular culture) and one of the most legendary rap artists turned actors and put them together in Sin City and it’s almost impossible not to have compelling drama.
In the latest installment of ESPN’s thirty year celebratory series30 for 30, director Reggie Rock Bythewood (Notorious, Biker Boyz) returns to September 7, 1996. One Night in Vegas highlights a chapter that continues to enthrall audiences, the Mike Tyson fight night in Vegas when Tupac Shakur was fatally shot. It’s not, however, an expose treading over the same familiar ground but a deeper portrait of two the most iconic black men in the late twentieth century and the unique relationship between them. Bythewood drops on this and the doc’s cross cultural significance.
Take one controversial former heavyweight superstar (really the last to captivate American popular culture) and one of the most legendary rap artists turned actors and put them together in Sin City and it’s almost impossible not to have compelling drama.
In the latest installment of ESPN’s thirty year celebratory series30 for 30, director Reggie Rock Bythewood (Notorious, Biker Boyz) returns to September 7, 1996. One Night in Vegas highlights a chapter that continues to enthrall audiences, the Mike Tyson fight night in Vegas when Tupac Shakur was fatally shot. It’s not, however, an expose treading over the same familiar ground but a deeper portrait of two the most iconic black men in the late twentieth century and the unique relationship between them. Bythewood drops on this and the doc’s cross cultural significance.
Stephane Dunn: How did you get involved with ESPN’s 30 for 30 series and how did this particular topic (this infamous Tyson and Tupac night) come about?
Reggie Bythewood: Well, ESPN wanted to do a documentary about this night in Vegas; they hooked up with the producer Damon Bingham and then they reached out to me; I had done Notorious and previously done a documentary on Laila Ali. I was [at] first reluctant because there’ve been so many documentaries done on Mike and so many on Tupac some bad and some pretty good. But then as I started to investigate . . . one of the things that blew me away was this kind of big brother, little brother relationship between Mike and Tupac. The film became less about this fight . . . and more about a night they thought they were going to go out and celebrate and ended in tragedy.
SD: So the documentary takes the approach of highlighting this relationship which really hasn’t been the subject of a lot work about this night? What was most distinctive about Mike’s version on the night and the impact on him?
RB: It was cool to find a fresh approach to the story. Mike talked about how he first met Pac when he was going to this club on Sunset Blvd . . . . He sees this skinny little guy standing outside who the bouncers won’t let in. He’s not dressed appropriately. Just before he goes in Mike turns to the bouncers and says let this guy in. Hours later Pac gets on the mike and starts rocking the place.
SD: So this was before Tupac was a big deal? He wasn’t Pac yet.
RB: Pac was coming up but not Pac the icon. These were the Digital Underground days. They were cool but he wasn’t walking down the street stopping traffic. Also, normally when you think of that Vegas night now you don’t think of it as a significant day in terms of boxing history but as a significant day in terms of hip hop history.
Read the Full Interview @ theLoop21.com
All Eyez on Vegas: Iron Mike Tyson & Tupac, Friendship and Tragedy
by Stephane Dunn | TheLoop21.com
Take one controversial former heavyweight superstar (really the last to captivate American popular culture) and one of the most legendary rap artists turned actors and put them together in Sin City and it’s almost impossible not to have compelling drama.
In the latest installment of ESPN’s thirty year celebratory series30 for 30, director Reggie Rock Bythewood (Notorious, Biker Boyz) returns to September 7, 1996. One Night in Vegas highlights a chapter that continues to enthrall audiences, the Mike Tyson fight night in Vegas when Tupac Shakur was fatally shot. It’s not, however, an expose treading over the same familiar ground but a deeper portrait of two the most iconic black men in the late twentieth century and the unique relationship between them. Bythewood drops on this and the doc’s cross cultural significance.
Take one controversial former heavyweight superstar (really the last to captivate American popular culture) and one of the most legendary rap artists turned actors and put them together in Sin City and it’s almost impossible not to have compelling drama.
In the latest installment of ESPN’s thirty year celebratory series30 for 30, director Reggie Rock Bythewood (Notorious, Biker Boyz) returns to September 7, 1996. One Night in Vegas highlights a chapter that continues to enthrall audiences, the Mike Tyson fight night in Vegas when Tupac Shakur was fatally shot. It’s not, however, an expose treading over the same familiar ground but a deeper portrait of two the most iconic black men in the late twentieth century and the unique relationship between them. Bythewood drops on this and the doc’s cross cultural significance.
Stephane Dunn: How did you get involved with ESPN’s 30 for 30 series and how did this particular topic (this infamous Tyson and Tupac night) come about?
Reggie Bythewood: Well, ESPN wanted to do a documentary about this night in Vegas; they hooked up with the producer Damon Bingham and then they reached out to me; I had done Notorious and previously done a documentary on Laila Ali. I was [at] first reluctant because there’ve been so many documentaries done on Mike and so many on Tupac some bad and some pretty good. But then as I started to investigate . . . one of the things that blew me away was this kind of big brother, little brother relationship between Mike and Tupac. The film became less about this fight . . . and more about a night they thought they were going to go out and celebrate and ended in tragedy.
SD: So the documentary takes the approach of highlighting this relationship which really hasn’t been the subject of a lot work about this night? What was most distinctive about Mike’s version on the night and the impact on him?
RB: It was cool to find a fresh approach to the story. Mike talked about how he first met Pac when he was going to this club on Sunset Blvd . . . . He sees this skinny little guy standing outside who the bouncers won’t let in. He’s not dressed appropriately. Just before he goes in Mike turns to the bouncers and says let this guy in. Hours later Pac gets on the mike and starts rocking the place.
SD: So this was before Tupac was a big deal? He wasn’t Pac yet.
RB: Pac was coming up but not Pac the icon. These were the Digital Underground days. They were cool but he wasn’t walking down the street stopping traffic. Also, normally when you think of that Vegas night now you don’t think of it as a significant day in terms of boxing history but as a significant day in terms of hip hop history.
Read the Full Interview @ theLoop21.com
Monday, October 26, 2009
The Unmasking of Mike Tyson
The Unmasking of Iron Mike
By Stephane Dunn
Oprah’s show has rarely attempted to provide a platform where intimate portraits of black men and radical dialogue about black masculinity with black men take place nor of course, do we see this often enough in popular culture and mass media. But two recent shows-dialogues with former infamous heavyweight Mike Tyson do a lot towards making up this deficit.
On the first show, Mike and Oprah sat and talked-Oprah in typical form anticipating some answers, but the allure of the show weren’t in the answers to burning questions like why Mike bit off Evander Holyfield’s ear or quintessential philosophical Oprah guru questions: ‘what have you learned’ from this or that. No, it was simply the unadorned humanity of Mike Tyson. Like the recent documentary Tyson (2008), in essence a long commentary on his life by Mike, it was almost too uncomfortable to watch, a former symbol of tough American and especially black American masculinity naked to the world in a way that supposedly true men are not supposed to be. With his powerful punch and that seemingly unwavering scary demeanor, Mike was the last true American heavyweight celebrity when he became the youngest heavyweight ever at age twenty.
After his fall from being a three hundred million dollar media darling, including that marriage debacle with actress Robin Givens, a rape conviction and three year prison sentence, divorces, and that ear biting episode, Mike seemed bound to be written off as yet another former great performer turned into a tragic black male, social monster-public joke. But Mike is having his most raw public showing yet. Without his gloves and that menacing mask, “iron” Mike’s words and tears, his obvious confusion and that painful desire to be free of suffering and his accompanying demons (drugs, womanizing, anger . . .) has the potential to earn him a new audience and a new public role. Ironically, as Mike made clear on the second show with Evander Holyfield, fame is the least thing he seeks.
Most striking was Mike’s inability to fully articulate his pain and the demons he does battle with daily including at that very moment. His ‘I don’t knows’ in response to such topics as the recent death of his young daughter highlighted his struggle not only with words but within himself. That continuous break in his voice suggested the telling tears that seemed to threaten to overtake Mike at any second. He was so extraordinarily stripped of any subterfuge, of the willingness to lie or seemingly of knowing that most men, indeed many women and men would have clung to the mask rather than sit their fully clothed but soul naked on a show that has become sort of an ultimate way that men jokingly [and seriously] distinguish men and masculinity from the so-called soap opera-like feminine emotionality that they equate with Oprah’s female dominated viewership and show style.
Mike humanized not only himself but the emotional vulnerability that we are not often privy to viewing through the prism of America’s heterosexual tough guy masculine ethos. In admitting that he is a hurting, struggling, but feeling human being and man, Mike provides a more powerful entryway into deconstructing narrow images and narratives of masculinity than any academic theory ever could. Furthermore, Mike, ironically, is actually a useful model for the black masculine street codes that require young black men to adapt a cool, dangerous posturing that’s wreaking havoc on themselves and their community.
With Mike so obviously involved in the greatest fight for his life, one can’t help but to hope that this broken brother can be rebuilt into the new man, the new being that he so desperately wants to become. For Mike’s sake, here’s hoping he gets enough rounds to truly, in his words, “win.”
***
Stephane Dunn, Ph.D, MFA, is currently an Assistant Professor in the English Department at Morehouse College. She has also taught at Ohio State University. A scholarly and creative writer, she specializes in film, popular culture, literature and African American studies. She is the author of articles and commentaries and the book, Baad Bitches & Sassy Supermamas: Black Power Action Films (University of Illinois Press 2008).
By Stephane Dunn
Oprah’s show has rarely attempted to provide a platform where intimate portraits of black men and radical dialogue about black masculinity with black men take place nor of course, do we see this often enough in popular culture and mass media. But two recent shows-dialogues with former infamous heavyweight Mike Tyson do a lot towards making up this deficit.
On the first show, Mike and Oprah sat and talked-Oprah in typical form anticipating some answers, but the allure of the show weren’t in the answers to burning questions like why Mike bit off Evander Holyfield’s ear or quintessential philosophical Oprah guru questions: ‘what have you learned’ from this or that. No, it was simply the unadorned humanity of Mike Tyson. Like the recent documentary Tyson (2008), in essence a long commentary on his life by Mike, it was almost too uncomfortable to watch, a former symbol of tough American and especially black American masculinity naked to the world in a way that supposedly true men are not supposed to be. With his powerful punch and that seemingly unwavering scary demeanor, Mike was the last true American heavyweight celebrity when he became the youngest heavyweight ever at age twenty.
After his fall from being a three hundred million dollar media darling, including that marriage debacle with actress Robin Givens, a rape conviction and three year prison sentence, divorces, and that ear biting episode, Mike seemed bound to be written off as yet another former great performer turned into a tragic black male, social monster-public joke. But Mike is having his most raw public showing yet. Without his gloves and that menacing mask, “iron” Mike’s words and tears, his obvious confusion and that painful desire to be free of suffering and his accompanying demons (drugs, womanizing, anger . . .) has the potential to earn him a new audience and a new public role. Ironically, as Mike made clear on the second show with Evander Holyfield, fame is the least thing he seeks.
Most striking was Mike’s inability to fully articulate his pain and the demons he does battle with daily including at that very moment. His ‘I don’t knows’ in response to such topics as the recent death of his young daughter highlighted his struggle not only with words but within himself. That continuous break in his voice suggested the telling tears that seemed to threaten to overtake Mike at any second. He was so extraordinarily stripped of any subterfuge, of the willingness to lie or seemingly of knowing that most men, indeed many women and men would have clung to the mask rather than sit their fully clothed but soul naked on a show that has become sort of an ultimate way that men jokingly [and seriously] distinguish men and masculinity from the so-called soap opera-like feminine emotionality that they equate with Oprah’s female dominated viewership and show style.
Mike humanized not only himself but the emotional vulnerability that we are not often privy to viewing through the prism of America’s heterosexual tough guy masculine ethos. In admitting that he is a hurting, struggling, but feeling human being and man, Mike provides a more powerful entryway into deconstructing narrow images and narratives of masculinity than any academic theory ever could. Furthermore, Mike, ironically, is actually a useful model for the black masculine street codes that require young black men to adapt a cool, dangerous posturing that’s wreaking havoc on themselves and their community.
With Mike so obviously involved in the greatest fight for his life, one can’t help but to hope that this broken brother can be rebuilt into the new man, the new being that he so desperately wants to become. For Mike’s sake, here’s hoping he gets enough rounds to truly, in his words, “win.”
***
Stephane Dunn, Ph.D, MFA, is currently an Assistant Professor in the English Department at Morehouse College. She has also taught at Ohio State University. A scholarly and creative writer, she specializes in film, popular culture, literature and African American studies. She is the author of articles and commentaries and the book, Baad Bitches & Sassy Supermamas: Black Power Action Films (University of Illinois Press 2008).
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