Directed by Brad Furman
Written by Christian Contreras
Starring Johnny Depp, Forest Whitaker, Toby Huss
Runtime: 1 hour 52 minutes
In theaters March 19

by Nikk Nelson, Staff Writer, Cinematic Maniac

The more I remember about the early 90’s, the more I’m thankful I grew up in them. Between gangsta rap and Mortal Kombat, it was a miracle our white Kansan suburbanite parents were able to get any sleep at all. They were terrified. Personally, I wasn’t quite suburban. Living close to Kansas City in my adulthood, it’s rare that I run into someone from Wichita originally and when I do, the conversation usually goes like this:

Me: “I’m from Wichita, originally.”

Them: “Me too!”

Me: <excited because I don’t meet many fellow Wichitans out here> “Cool! Where’d you go to

school?”

Them: “Maize.”

Me: <what I say> “Okay, right on.”

Me: <what I don’t say because I’m polite> “Yeah, you’re not from Wichita.”

I went to school at the University of Kansas in Lawrence, Kansas. Most people I met there came from Johnson County—Kansas City suburbs. I never once met another person from Wichita, Wichita. Only ever suburbs like Maize. I grew up on West Douglas and South Seneca, near Lawrence-Dumont Stadium where The Wranglers, a minor league baseball team, used to play. I went to high school down the street at Wichita West High School. And when I tell people from Maize that, sometimes they get quiet, serious, and ask me in a hushed tone, “How was that?” like I’d been through a war. West High was where all of those kids went, as you’d hear people say. The school made the news more than once for gang violence. By the time I got there, a strict dress code had been implemented in an effort to curb the conflict over ‘colors’. One of the two approved colors was dark blue so, again, adults really have no fucking idea what they’re doing.

My parents were divorced and when my mom enrolled me there, my dad’s family were very concerned. They lived in a teeny-tiny town, Anthony, Kansas, where I spent a lot of weekends, holidays, and summer vacations. Fun fact, Anthony and its twin town ten miles down the road, Harper, used to be sundown towns. Near the border of Oklahoma, Anthony was also, and perhaps still is to this day, a hotspot for drug trafficking. My point is, who the fuck were they to judge anybody, including the kids that went to my school? My sandbox in which I write fiction, Rye County, Kansas is based on Harper County and a lot of the experiences I had growing up there. For the record, attending West High, I never once felt unsafe. I was never threatened, harassed, robbed, or assaulted. I never witnessed violence (beyond a typical fight) or heard gunshots. All of my bullies were white.

I start with all of this, not in an effort to establish street cred, but to make it clear that, from an early age, I knew the stories white people and the media, especially in Kansas, told about black people and black culture were complete bullshit. And this is a fundamental angle of characterization in Johnny Depp’s portrayal of Detective Russell Poole in Brad Furman’s haunting and immersive film, City of Lies (2018). Only now making its U.S. debut, City of Lies tells the story of the original investigation into the murder of Christopher Wallace, aka hip-hop artist The Notorious B.I.G.

I haven’t really enjoyed a Johnny Depp starring role in years. I love his earlier career, particularly Donnie Brasco (1997), in which Depp plays an undercover FBI agent. City of Lies is almost like Depp picks up that performance twenty-five years later, now a man near the end of his life, looking back at the system he devoted his life to that broke him in return. I absolutely loved it. It was like having my Depp back. I don’t want to spoil any aspect of this movie, especially if you’re like me, and have always been curious to know how in the hell the murders of Christopher Wallace and Tupac Shakur were never solved. In fact, the investigations remain open to this day. If you want to know why, City of Lies will give you a pretty convincing theory. At times, it unravels in an almost part documentary fashion similar to Spike Lee’s Da 5 Bloods (2020) which I found to be somewhat distracting. It makes for a confusing narrative, in my opinion, to have Johnny Depp as a voiceover narrator talking to you about the history of the LAPD in the early nineties and giving you biographical information about The Notorious B.I.G. only to cut back to him trying to perform as one of the real people this case destroyed. But the overall story and performances succeed despite that. I typically avoid box art adjectives but City of Lies is gripping. That being said, if you’re not at all interested in this history, you’ll probably feel the opposite. If you’re a sucker for true crime and police procedurals, there’s definitely enough here to keep you entertained.

The supporting cast is absolutely amazing, namely, Forest Whitaker as journalist Darius “Jack” Jackson, who, in researching an article for the 20th anniversary of Christopher Wallace’s death, tracks down Russell Poole for a statement and, upon learning that Russell still hasn’t given up his investigation, finds himself forming an unlikely partnership and friendship. Other familiar faces in the stellar supporting cast include Toby Huss (Carnivale, Halloween), Dayton Callie (Charlie Utter in Deadwood), and Laurence Mason (Hackers, The Crow). Cameos include Killer Mike and Voletta Wallace, Christopher Wallace’s mother, appearing as herself. Based on the book LAbyrinth: A Detective Investigates the Murders of Tupac Shakur and Notorious B.I.G., the Implication of Death Row Records’ Suge Knight, and the Origins of the Los Angeles Police Scandal by Randall Sullivan, City of Lies is an equally hopeful and heartbreaking look back at a fascinating time in our history. I highly recommend it.

Good lead ins or follow-ups include Notorious (2009); Biggie: I Got a Story to Tell (2021); Colors (1988); Dark Blue (2002); Training Day (2001)

P.S. Last but not least, Shea Whigham (Perry Mason, Boardwalk Empire) plays a small but captivating role as officer Frank Lyga. Shea also played the cop in the Run the Jewels video for “Close Your Eyes (And Count to Fuck)”. With Killer Mike’s cameo, I thought this was a cool connection.