Rap World, the longest film directed by Conner O’Malley to date (running just a smidge over 55 minutes), is somewhat contradictorily one of his more sparse. O’Malley’s humor is found in characters reflective of the current zeitgeist — manic, obsessive young men whose earnestness covers for an aching emptiness at their own respective disillusionment with the “American dream” of their day. The Mask’s Tyler Joseph (O’Malley) is a suburban improv artist who moves to Los Angeles to make it big, failing so spectacularly and publicly that he ends up becoming the face of a Q-Anon type group; Rebranded Mickey Mouse’s titular O’Malley character is intent on creating a new pop culture sensation in a dystopian corporatocracy ruled by Disney’s iron fist; Howard Schultz Tapes’ O’Malley character is a 17-year-old political fanatic who desperately wants to see Howard Schultz (or Beto O’Rourke) elected president, only to be kidnapped and tortured by the starbucks CEO. The American dream of success can only manifest itself as a tumor inside these characters, as reflections of the contradictions between capitalism’s promises and realities.
Rap World teases out a more low-key version of these ideas. There is the noted absence of fringe political theories, elaborate costumes, and manic violence. Instead, the music mockumentary follows three white guys in 2009 suburban Pennsylvania looking to make a radical disruption in rap music history with a debut cool-bop Pennsylvania rap album. O’Malley is less frantic than he is pitiful as Matt Lohan, an oafish, insecure 30-something who just wants to do something great. Casey Foy (Jack Bensinger), Matt’s co-worker and bandmate, invites Jason Rice (Eric Rahill) to produce, only to discover a confusing suburban rivalry built between the two. A tense initial recording session only breaks when Jason finally plays one of his beats, something indescribably of its era and context (the film’s distinctly 2009 feel is hardly understated — from mii creation to Viva la Vida to a prominently featured sideways-turned brimmed beanie).
More profoundly, Rap World sees three (four if you count Danny Scharar playing Ben Kupec’s cameraman) losers attempt to find beauty in their otherwise miserable lives. Most of the humor of the film is therefore attributable to the incongruity of the representation of objects and their reality (Schopenhauer must have been onto something). Matt and company are convinced they are destined to make a great album, and the film functions as a series of confrontations between their own self-conceptions as soon-to-be successes and the reality that they are ultimately a collection of hopeless dorks completely alienated from their communities. Matt believes himself to be a great dad, only to be revealed as emotionally severed from his child; Jason suffers enormous public embarrassment at the hands of a crush; and in a final glimpse into Matt’s life, it becomes evident that his delusions have done incredible damage to those around him. There’s an earnest, longing sincerity to be better that haunts them, but it’s their fantasies that ultimately control their fate. The American dream, as the desire to escape a meaningful life, is a death wish — and so, fittingly, the boys’ final grab at glory is to point a gun at each other.
Published as part of New/Next Film Fest 2024.
