DA HIP HOP WITCH Will Kick Your Ass
RATING: 🍑👈🧙♀️
Believe me when I say there's nothing on earth quite like Da Hip Hop Witch. This 2000 direct-to-video gem is a dense, giddily incomprehensible freak-treat which exists somewhere between hype video, found footage horror parody, and Inland Empire companion piece. When my friend spelunked it from the depths of Amazon’s virtual bargain bin, we both assumed it was a Wayans brothers-type Blair Witch goof, starring various hip-hop artists in cameo roles. What we experienced instead was something far more unique, confusing, and riotously entertaining than we ever could’ve imagined, and before long we were lost in the sauce like Heather, Mike, and Josh in the summer of ‘99. This movie will change your life…...assuming you can survive it.
You’ll need all the help you can get. From the starting gun, Da Hip Hop Witch offers very little solid ground on which to stand or orient yourself. After the prerequisite Blair Witch exposition card parodies, Hip Hop Witch spins out a protracted opening title credits sequence, injected between the caffeinated introduction of anywhere from six to nine discrete plots and subplots. An aspiring rapper makes a deal with a mysterious producer named Lazarus. A woman takes a job at a hack tabloid magazine. A group of druggy white folks in Salem set out to find “The Black Witch of the Projects,” and more and more and more. How do these threads eventually connect? I have no idea. These myriad, tangled beginnings weave with reports from “Hip Hop Witch TV,” and candid footage of real-life rappers and hip-hop artists improvising witness accounts of da titular Witch.
These reports of “witch bitch” encounters spread throughout the film, but the most notable of them is delivered by Marshall Mathers himself, who recounts in many parts an incident where he took ecstasy and the Witch stuck her "basketball fingers" up his ass. Eminem later unsuccessfully sued to have his scenes removed from this film. Quickly and aggressively, Witch settles into a gripping, eldritch rhythm of bizarre plot beats and ad-libbed jokes and home video footage and montages and Vanilla Ice appearances and news bulletins and flashbacks and seances and inserts and just whatever, like literally whatever, for anywhere between one and three hours. Then, it suddenly concludes with one of the craziest endings I've ever seen, and that's Da Hip Hop Witch.
Like recounting the events of a dream, it’s impossible to convey the absolute strangeness of Da Hip Hop Witch in writing. The movie’s combination of z-grade shot-on-video narrative filmmaking and “let’s get high fuck around” improvised bits conjure an intoxicating filmic cocktail, which is simultaneously completely impenetrable and totally engrossing. One of Witch’s greatest strengths is that it rarely lingers on a segment for more than three minutes at a time, often cutting away abruptly or even halfway through a sentence. Plot threads are introduced, dropped in the middle of a scene, and brought back with a jolt twenty minutes later. With no exaggeration, there is not a single moment in this film where you'll be able to guess what occurs next. That's a big reason why I love it.
Another motivation for my affection is that it's hard to find genuine mind-melter movies, but Da Hip Hop Witch passes with flying colors. At the risk of academizing a quick-and-dirty Blair parody, Hip Hop Witch is less of a narrative film and more of a fragmentary, associative experience. Even once the fistful of plots run together and ostensibly connect, it's a challenge to grok exactly what's going on, to say nothing of Witch’s delirious concluding moments. The cumulative effect on your brain is that of gently running a hair dryer over particularly tender gelato. If you’re sober you’ll have your jaw dropped; if you’re high you’ll have an out-of-body experience. Either way, you won’t believe what you’re seeing - I spent the first ten minutes completely enraptured, head in my hands, horrified and giddy. Cannot recommend enough.
What I’ve covered here barely even touches the deep, baffling iceberg of Da Hip Hop Witch, but it’s not a movie I want to spoil. I’m not sure it’s even a movie I can spoil - knowing that Eminem’s witch tale concludes with his arm shoved fully up her ass does nothing to rob the ramble of its elemental power. Vanilla Ice disses the witch while getting a tattoo, an interview suddenly concludes with a freeze-frame and the character’s death date, a montage unrolls like a YouTube Poop set to totally unrelated audio, and a woman in a hot pink Party City bob wig parodies Heather Blairwitch’s teary camera confession without a hint of irony. There is so, so much enjoyable stuff in here, but it’s the kind of megalithic movie which leaves you shellshocked once it ends. Slim Shady was right: be careful if you fuck with Da Hip Hop Witch.