Review: Netflix And Baz Luhrmann's Unreal Hip-Hop Origin Story, "The Get Down"

Baz Luhrmann’s first small-screen foray, The Get Down, has landed on Netflix with one of TV’s biggest ever price tags. It was worth the dosh.

Casually scroll through your social media platform of choice and you’ll find friends salivating over Netflix’s newest sensation: an old school throwback firing up nostalgic pleasure centers with a little help from a period-perfect soundtrack.

I’m of course talking about Stranger Things.

But, to paraphrase the Black Eyed Peas, where is the love for Baz Luhrmann’s The Get Down, another Netflix original series that went live on the streaming service this winter?

Twitter and Instagram are not flush with its GIFs. There are no Buzzfeed lists ranking the 25 best quotes by one of its ancillary characters. And you can expect more Winona Ryders tangled up in fairy lights at your Halloween party this year than anyone dressed in The Get Down’s flares.

That’s a crying shame, because The Get Down is an audacious storytelling experiment that delivers euphoric highs, and, more than even the addictive-but-exhausted Empire, gives hip-hop its due as a culturally significant artistic movement and liberator. It does so with a diverse, exceptionally talented young cast. It also reportedly cost $US120 million. To now paraphrase Fifth Harmony: Worth it.

The show - partly inspired by the life and times of producer Grandmaster Flash and steeped in the history of New York, circa 1977 - follows Ezekiel “Zeke” Figuero (Justice Smith), an aspiring Bronx poet whose affections for the would-be diva Mylene Cruz (Herizen Guardiola) leave him lovelorn and blind to the possibilities of his own career. It’s not until he meets low-level dealer, fabled tagger and DJ-in-training Shaolin Fantastic (Shameik Moore) that he finds his sonic soul mate. Together, with Zeke’s buddies, the Kipling brothers (Jaden Smith, Skylan Brooks, Tremaine Brown Jr.), they form a rap troupe intent on taking over the city. Yet, circumstance, the lure of crime and the looming shadow of murderous disco king Cadillac (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) stand in the way.

Australia’s reigning prince of glitz, Baz Luhrmann, may not seem like the ideal messenger for this tale, and certainly The Get Down at its most grating - specifically, the first half of its rambling, 90-minute season opener - feels needlessly brassy and broad, rather than gritty and raw. Yet, as he proved in Moulin Rouge and The Great Gatsby, no one throws a party like Baz, and the pilot’s early sequences set during a fiery disco dance contest and ribald Grandmaster Flash concert are irresistibly ecstatic.

The cast is just as alluring, particularly newcomers Smith and Guardiola, not to mention the deliriously menacing Abdul-Mateen and oft-unsung Kevin Corrigan, as a drug-addled producer under the thumb of Mylene’s corrupt city councilman uncle, played by Jimmy Smits. Even the inscrutable Jaden Smith, never good before, is ideal here as a bi-curious graffitist sucked into SoHo’s art scene. He’s followed around by his own theme song: Can’s psychedelic “Vitamin C”. Suddenly, Jaden Smith’s Tweets make sense. Yes, including this one.

A number of veteran TV directors follow in Luhrmann’s footsteps after the first episode, each with plenty of experience in framing an actual hour of narrative television, and The Get Down becomes more thrilling and compelling as it ticks along, accordingly. (Only the first six episodes have been made available by Netflix, with the remaining episodes of Season One to follow in 2017.)

That’s not to discount Luhrmann’s involvement; he sets the visual palette and swirling aural soundscape from The Get Down’s first minute. Catherine Martin, the four-time Oscar-winning art director and costume designer, similarly leaves her mark. Baz has also noted that he considers himself more a “curator” when it comes to relaying this specific period in American lore, having called upon Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Stephen Adly Guirgis to join him in the scripting process. Nas is on board too, delivering individual “Previously On” raps for each instalment. Empire’s bandleader, meanwhile, is Timbaland. Read into that what you will.

Which brings us to the soundtrack. Luhrmann has never met an obvious music cue he didn’t embrace wholeheartedly, and every clichéd disco track under the mirrorball gets its play. Where The Get Down actually stands out is with its original tunes. Zeke’s raps feel organic and vulnerable, while Mylene’s anthems could pass for Donna Summer’s standards. Modern contributions to the soundtrack, especially Christina Aguilera and Nile Rodgers’ “Telepathy” and Miguel’s “Cadillac”, may be anachronistic, but dammit, they’re catchy.

At the end of this truncated half-season, you can see where The Get Down can grow, as well as its limitations. Until the disappointment – or surprise – sets in, we can enjoy this hugely entertaining six-and-a-half-hour block of hyper-real history brought to life.

Last year, side-eyes were aimed squarely at Straight Outta Compton for its four white screenwriters. Luhrmann, understanding this story is not his to tell, has at least brought the right voices on board for The Get Down. He does not impede its telling though, still remaining true to his instincts, passions and undeniable, uncanny directorial skill. It's a bargain at twice the price.

4/5

The Get Down is now streaming on Netflix.