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'How come nobody thinks about Juice WRLD like Kurt Cobain?': Documentary director Tommy Oliver on the late rapper’s legacy

The AFI Fest Documentary Audience Award-winning documentary Juice WRLD: Into the Abyss, which premieres this week on HBO, explores the brief life and lasting legacy of hip-hop superstar Juice WRLD, a.k.a. Jarad Anthony Higgins, who tragically died on Dec. 8, 2019 — less than a week after his 21st birthday — from an oxycodone/codeine overdose while flying from L.A. to Chicago. Directed by Tommy Oliver (40 Years a Prisoner) and released by Bill Simmons’s Ringer Entertainment, the film draws from hundreds of hours of previously unseen footage, shot during Higgins’s final two years by videographers Steve Cannon and Chris Long. Oliver’s unsparing portrayal of the young, troubled genius — letting raw scenes of the “Lucid Dreams” rapper partying, recording, and freestyling tell the story, without any embellishment, editorializing, or pandering — makes for powerful viewing.

Yahoo Entertainment/SiriusXM Volume spoke with Oliver at length about why the music and story of Juice WRLD (who is still Spotify’s third-most streamed artist in the U.S., right behind Drake and Taylor Swift, and the 10th-most-streamed globally) continues to resonate two years after his death; how he changed and saved lives during his short career; and why he should be held in the same esteem as the late Kurt Cobain.

Yahoo Entertainment: There is so much unseen footage that you gained access to use in Into the Abyss. I want to talk about your process and how you put it together, because it's actually very similar to how Peter Jackson worked with the footage that he used for the Beatles’ Get Back in that, with the exception of a little bit at the beginning and end of your film, you present the footage with no narration or suspenseful music to tell the viewer how to feel.

Tommy Oliver: I wasn't sure if it was possible to do that in the beginning. And so, we got dumped a hard drive with 8,000 clips, hundreds of hours. It was nuts. And it was never shot for a documentary. Maybe it'd be a vlog. Maybe it would be a music video. Maybe it would be a piece of a documentary. So, it required a lot of cataloging and tagging and going through and trying to figure out if we could tell the story this way. And once I realized that we could, my whole thing was just to be able to tell the story through his voice and through his perspective, and try to limit, as much as possible, anything else. And so, there's no narration, there's no somebody dropping in opining and telling what you should feel or what you've got to pay attention to. It's his journey, his voice.

Juice WRLD performs in September 2019 in Oakland, California. (Photo: Miikka Skaffari/WireImage)
Juice WRLD performs in September 2019 in Oakland, California. (Photo: Miikka Skaffari/WireImage)

So much of that footage must have given you chills, because sometimes you're actually sort of seeing him self-destruct on camera. You're seeing him doing drugs, you're seeing him talk about some dark stuff. And then there's the whole opening, which is about three uncut minutes of him freestyling. When you started to dive this treasure trove, you must have had so many moments where you were freaking out.

Very true. … The opening freestyle, when I saw that it was, it was kind of unbelievable. It is so good. It's one of my favorite songs that I've ever heard in my life. And he just made that up on the spot — in real time, which is just nuts. And then to listen to what he says, it's not like he's just saying stuff just to say it. He tells you everything you need to know about him and his journey in that opening freestyle, if you listen to the lyrics. It's all there. And so that became something that was really important. I cut the film with my partner, Joe Kehoe, and I remember early on in the process, I cut the first 10 minutes of the film in about three hours. It just all flowed, and the opening is basically what we have now. I remember seeing that and wanting to help the audience understand what they were about to see, help the audience prepare for this musical genius — to see that, in a way, his freestyles were acting as his sit-down interviews, where he's telling you what's going on.

I'm glad you used the word “genius.” Because even though he is still the third-most streamed artist in America and the 10th-most-streamed the world, I don't know if more casual fans don't know that much about him that this was a guy who was started playing piano at age 4 and played multiple instruments, et cetera.

The truth is, I didn't know the insane level of artistry of Juice WRLD prior to really digging in. I knew he was talented. I knew he played different instruments. But I didn't know how unbelievable he was. I just didn't. And Bill Simmons, who's an AP on the project and was a fantastic partner throughout this, he asked me, “How come nobody thinks about Juice WRLD like Kurt Cobain?” And I said, “Because they haven't seen the film yet.” And so that's what it is. People didn't really have insight into his process or insight into how he did 10 songs in a night, nor enough context to understand how atypical that is. He was something special.

Juice WRLD died just six days after his 21st birthday. And you do have to wonder what might have been. Obviously there have been a couple posthumous releases, including Fighting Demons, which just came out to coincide with this film. But the fact that this guy was only 21 and really only came to fame around age 19, and he was doing 10 songs a day and freestyles out of nowhere. … I mean, my God, what could he have achieved had he lived?

It's crazy to think about what could have been, given all that he managed to accomplish in two years in the industry. He did more in those two years than most superstars do in their career. He made more songs in those two years than most people who have careers that span decades. It's hard to even fathom the heights that he would've likely reached. And so in many ways it's a tragedy, because we lost a special, special soul.

He always seemed quite fixated on his mortality. There's a scene in the film where’s doing a radio interview with Big Boy on, on the radio where he says he won't even make it to 21. Is that why you think these two videographers who were trailing him around and captured all that footage to work with – that he wanted to document his life because he knew he wasn't going to be here for a long time?

I think it's possible. He was the one who wanted them around. He was the one who wanted everything to be shot. And like, when they're on the plane, which is just harrowing, he talks about, “I want you to record everything 24/7, no matter what.” And that was his choice. And I think it's similar to the way that he poured everything into the music, without reservation. It was just vulnerable and open: “Here it is, for anyone to see.”

Yes, he was absolutely an open book, and he often talked about mental health anxiety, depression, addiction in his songs and his interviews. And in your film, there's a scene where he's talking about how in his community, in his family, that was still a taboo subject. How do you think he broke barriers or opened up national conversations about mental health?

I think this is evidence of it right here, right now, that we're talking about a documentary that could [have been] just a music documentary. But we're talking about mental health. And he said in that interview that you're referencing, “It's not me, but I can start a chain reaction so that after I'm gone, it can continue on.” And I think that he has done that. And that legacy continues with his mother, with her foundation Live Free 999, and with other people who are taking notice in ways that they didn't before and having those conversations and checking in and being more supportive and trying to destigmatize the idea of mental health or therapy, especially in the Black community. … It's hard to really explain how impactful he is for a lot of people. I've met so many m fans throughout this process, and so many of them have said that he's saved their lives. Like, he's straight-up saved them. He saved them from substance abuse or suicide, all sorts of things. His openness and willingness to talk about stuff and to give it voice — when they didn't know how to explain it or how to talk about it, but there's somebody that they respect and somebody that they care for is talking about it — makes it a lot easier. And so his impact, to your point about him being No. 2 in the U.S. this year behind Drake and Taylor Swift, there's a reason that he continues to rise, and there's a reason that people love him the way that they do. And part of it is they get to see themselves in him. They get to hear the things that they're dealing with expressed openly and honestly, from somebody who was going through similar things. Because so we all go through things, but not many of us have the courage to be able to go through it on a public stage.

Why do you think mental health has been stigmatized or avoided subject in the Black community, and definitely in hip-hop, that it would be such a big deal for Juice WRLD to tackle it head-on?

I think that therapy has been a taboo thing in the Black community for a long time, and the reasons are complex. But part of it is not having been supported by institutions for so long — and not only not having been supported, but there were things that have been perpetuated that are just downright wrong. And so that created a situation where there was reason to distrust. And then you layer on top of that the machismo of the hip-hop industry, or the faux machismo. You gotta be tough. You don't talk about stuff. You gotta create this perception or this persona. And that is entirely inconsistent with, “Oh, I'm going to work on myself and my problems by sitting down and pouring my soul out in a vulnerable way.” And so when that is the culture… it becomes a very hard thing to break on either side. And it takes some who's willing to deal with whatever flak they may get, because it's important for them or it's important for the community, because it is problematic. Therapy and counseling and being vulnerable is an important part of being a good person, and I applaud people like Juice who are able to do it.

Did Juice get flak at the time? Obviously we're talking about how he connected with so many fans and how two years later, he is still one of the most streamed artists in the world, but when he first came out, was he ridiculed for being so open?

See, that's the thing: He didn't! At least not that I saw or remembered. But it's the idea of it that's uncomfortable because, hey, it might [if you open up]. The times that you get hurt, the times that you are vulnerable, the times that you open yourself up, those are also the times where you have the most room for growth or love or excitement because you're vulnerable. And that joy isn't felt, because you holding yourself back. And I think that's one of the reasons why he popped as much as he did. He didn't hedge. He didn't give people just a bit of him, or a bit of who they thought, or who he thought they wanted. He gave them who he was, and he was embraced because of it.

We were talking about what might have been had he lived. I think about the conversation we're having now, and I wonder what kind of music would he have made in 2020, when we were in the middle of a mental health crisis because of the pandemic and the Black Lives Matter movement was in the news more than ever.

That actually makes me really sad, because I think he would've made incredible music. [Producer] Benny Blanco talked about how he was a “voice of a generation”. And I think that he would've channeled all of those things into incredibly poignant and meaningful music. It's a sad thing that there will never be a new Juice WRLD verse.

True. But he was so prolific. There are a lot of parallels to Tupac Shakur here. Tupac had a sense of his own mortality and lots of posthumous releases. Do you have knowledge of what unreleased Juice WRLD music exists?

I do! I actually have some of it. It's awesome. It's incredible. And it helps that there is enough music for several more top-tier albums, without a doubt. It's still sad though, with 2020 and all of what happened, that he couldn't come up with music at that time. I don't think his music will be any less relevant; there will just be no new verses. We don't get his opinion on where things are at this point. And that just makes me appreciate the time that he was here.

There's a scene in the film, where it seems like he's talking about how he wants to get sober. Obviously, he died of a drug overdose. Did he actually make any serious attempts to get clean, like going to rehab?

So, it's a little complicated. He was actually scheduled to go to rehab in December 2019, and because he was going to rehab, he seemed to have taken even more drugs. But he also said that he didn't want to be clean. He didn't want to be sober, and that he was going to rehab so that his tolerance would go down.

Wow.

He did not want to stop. And that was what he wanted. And those were his choices. And toward the end, there were a lot of people who were very concerned. But that's what he said. He said, “I don't wanna go, I don't wanna get clean, but at least my tolerance will go down.”

This is a weird contrast. I said earlier that he seemed fixated on his mortality and didn't think he might make it to age 21, but when you tell me a story like that, it sounds like he felt invincible.

I think it was more of the former. Maybe the sense of invincibility comes with youth, where you just there's so much that we don't know at 19 or 21. But I think that he was very keenly aware of his mortality, which is likely one of the reasons that he lived life to the fullest. You think about a song like “Fast” — you know, living fast, fast, fast, making the most of every moment, enjoying his time, spending his money, doing whatever he wanted to do, and in many ways living as though there were no tomorrow.

Is there any fallacy, preconception, or mythology around Juice that you wanted to make sure you cleared up with this film?

I wanted to make sure that people saw him for who he was, and I wanted the portrayal to be accurate and not weighted in one way or the other. And so, he was a sweet, fun kid, but also did a lot of drugs. And those things are there, but with context. It's never sensationalized. It's an understanding of who he was, what he was going through, and him as a person — an accurate representation of that. I just wanted to make sure that he was seen and as he 360-degree person, and not as just an artist or not as just somebody who died from a drug-induced seizure or not just as any of those things.

The above interview will air on the SiriusXM Volume show “Volume West” on Friday, Dec. 17. Full audio of that conversation will then be available via the SiriusXM app.

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