I know it’s just a movie, but I trust that Dre would have made sure the portrayal of his hometown was on point. The film opens with an epic drug raid on the crack dens of Compton, South Los Angeles, where we meet a young and misguided Eazy E in above his head. Straight Outta Compton is what movie making is all about. But no matter the inner turmoil I experienced intermittently throughout my two hours and twenty seven minutes in that red Arclight Cinema chair, one thing’s for sure: I was entertained as hell. There were times when I felt guilt and shame, times when I felt abhorrence and superiority, and there were times when I just felt really fucking uncool. It would be a lie to say that the color of my skin and the privilege of my upbringing did not affect how I felt about this film. I want to kick this off by stating that I am a white, 29-year-old female, raised in a middle class family in a safe neighborhood. What the hell does my race and socio-economic status have to do with Straight Outta Compton? Well, heaps, actually.
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