New York Times (December 20, 1998) p.AR35 & AR46

A VISUAL HIGH STYLE FOR HIP-HOP VOICES
by Lola Ogunnaike

It's a hot night in Las Vegas.  Casino signs gleam as a voice in the 
distance bellows: "Party people, it's about that time..."  Trumpets 
blast. 'Puff Daddy, decked out in a suit that appears to be made of 
aluminum foil, cocks one finger in the air, John Travolta style.  The 
hips of dancers, dressed in skimpy money-green body suits, start to 
twitch in time as a funky bass line begins.  Puffy's partner, Mase, 
pulls up in a shiny black Mercedes.  Fireworks explode.  The chorus 
coos seductively, "Bad, bad, bad, bad boy, you make me feel so good."

Welcome to Hype Williams's world of music video.  At 29, Mr. Williams 
is the most sought after, and blatantly imitated, music-video director 
in pop.  He has directed more than 200 videos, sometimes completing as 
many as four a month.  His videos are so much in demand that MTV 
recently broadcast a half-hour special called "The Top 10 Hype Williams 
Videos of All Time."  He was Billboard's video director of the year in 
1996 and was nominated for the award again this year.  (He did not 
win.)  His video for Will Smith's "Getting Jiggy Wit It" was named MTV 
best rap video of the year in September.  And his video for "I'll Be 
Missing You," puff Daddy's ode to the slain rapper Notorious B.I.G., 
won both the Soul Train Music Award for best rap video and MTV's award 
for best rhythm-and-blues video of 1997.  Mr. Williams made his first 
foray into feature-length films with the newly released "Belly."

"His videos are eye candy," said Stephen Hill, the director of music 
programming at MTV.  "He makes people want to watch music videos.  And 
I don't think it's a coincidence that his videos are attached to music 
that sells well."

Mr. Williams has almost single-handedly redefined rap videos.  For much 
of the 1980's and early 1990's, they were little more than home videos, 
far less innovative than their rock-and-roll counterparts.

Fresh from sweeping floors and fetching meals as a gopher at Classic 
Concepts, a video-productions studio in New York, Mr. Williams, a film-
school dropout from St. Albans, Queens, founded a production company, 
Big Dog Films, in 1993.  His video for the Wu-Tang Clan's "Can It Be 
That It Was All So Simple" earned him recognition within the industry, 
but it was one for Craig Mack's "Flava in Your Ear" that secured his 
position at the forefront of rap video.

"I wasn't seeing what I wanted to see in videos," Mr. Williams said.  
"There was no color, no originality.  Record companies assumed that the 
people who bought rap records didn't need to see quality, so nobody was 
putting in the effort or the money."

It wasn't until rap became a major commercial force in pop music that 
record labels saw the need to invest in rap videos.  Mr. Williams was 
one of the first to shoot rap videos in exotic locations.  He stood 
rappers on street corners, put them on sailing yachts, and had them 
riding around in Hummers.  He dressed the rapper Missy Elliott in a 
black Michelin Man-like inflatable rubber suit for the video of her 
song "The Rain," and transformed the ever rambunctious rapper Busta 
Rhymes into a fedora-wearing Shaka Zulu for his video "Put Your Hands 
Where My Eyes Can See."  His videos , many of which cost more than $1 
million, are shot with a fish-eye lens and filled with vibrant color 
and rapid cuts.  He made rap videos glamorous, or "ghetto fabulous," in 
the parlance of the industry.

"Before Hype, rap videos were 'J.C. Penney," said Russell Simmons, the 
founder and former head of Def Jam Records, and influential hip-hop 
label, "and now they're Barneys."

But he is not the pretentious, self-promoter that a nickname like Hype 
might suggest.  Born Harold Williams, he was given the name Hype for 
being high-strung as a child.  He says he is a recluse who "hates" city 
life and prefers to be at home in Westchester County with his two 
mastiffs or at his second home in Atlanta with his finacee Aquilla 
Turner, and their newborn daughter, Azza.  His stocky build is 
comfortably hidden in the baggy jeans and boots that are staples of 
hip-hop culture.

The only thing really hyper about Hype Williams is his hair, a curly, 
unruly mass that he methodically twists when in deep thought.  The son 
of a Honduran mother and an African-American father, Mr. Williams 
recalled being the lightest-skinned youngster in his all-black working-
class neighbourhood.  "I was the white boy at school," he said.  While 
many of his childhood friends succumbed to drug dealing and petty 
crime, he said his "Brady Bunch-like family" kept him straight.  
"Everybody I grew up with got caught up in money, and everybody did the 
wrong thing for money," he said.

Thos who have worked with Mr. Williams say that he is something of a 
perfectionist.  For his part, Mr. Williams says he doesn't like rules 
and appreciates having things done his way.  Until the release of 
"Belly," he had given few interviews.  (He also wears a long-sleeve T-
shirt emblazoned with the movie's full title, "Belly: America Eats Its 
Young.")  He's clearly uncomfortable talking about himself.  He often 
answers questions with questions of his own.  "I don't like having to 
think of the right thing to say," he said.  "My work, that's my 
statement."

With "Belly," he leaves behind the colorful fantasy world of his videos 
and opts for a darker, harsher depiction of urban life.  "The only 
reason I even got into music videos was so I could learn how to make 
movies," said Mr. Williams, who wrote and directed "Belly."  "But not 
just any movie, this movie."

"Belly tells the story of two childhood friends, Tommy Brown, played by 
the rapper DMX, and Sincere, played by the rapper Nas.  After years of 
hustling on the streets of Queens, the duo's hard work pays off as they 
become kingpins in the drug netherworld.  Finally fed up with drug 
dealing, Sincere and his family escape to Africa.  Brown plunges deeper 
into the drug abyss before ultimately finding redemption.

Mr. Williams knows that comparisons of his movie to films like "Boyz N 
the Hood," "Menace II Society," and "Juice" are inevitable.  But in 
spite of the gratuitous strip-joint and shootout scenes, Mr. Williams 
insists that "Belly" is not a glorification of the gangster life style 
but an attempt to speak directly to young people about the lack of 
values in American Society.

"Without even seeing the movie, I know people are going to criticize me 
for doing what they perceive to be another ghetto film," Mr. Williams 
said.  "They see the rappers and hear the soundtrack and think, Here 
goes another black filmmaker doing the same thing.  People are going to 
try and sell me short, but the type of things I've done in music video 
should give them insight into what I'm capable of creatively."

The movie, which grossed $5.7 million the week it was released last 
month, was well received by its target audience, hip-hop fans.  And 
while some critics praised it for its visual beauty and positive 
message, many others were less enthusiastic.  "It's hard to feel sorry 
for Hype's visually energetic but morally bankrupt minstrel show," 
wrote Tony Norman in The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

Critics also condemned the use of big-name rappers with little or no 
acting experience as his main characters.  In addition to Nas and DMX, 
the movie features Method Man of Wu-Tang Clan, T-Box and the rhythm-
and-blues trio TLC.

Mr. Williams maintained that such performers were "naturals" who 
already have "a special relationship with the written word."  He added 
that his decision to cast music-industry celebrities went deeper than 
their box-office draw.  "Black people don't have a new Leonardo 
DiCaprio or Kate Winslet coming up every year," he said.  "There's 
always new young white talent, but where's the new black talent coming 
from?  Movies tend to use the same old black actors all the time, and 
maybe that's the way Hollywood wants it.  But I think it's time for a 
new Hollywood, and I think that spring of new talent is going to come 
from the music industry."

Even so, Magic Johnson, the former Los Angeles Lakers star, refused to 
show the movie at his theatre complexes in Los Angeles, Houston and 
Atlanta because he considered its violence and negative depictions of 
blacks offensive.

Mr. Williams seemed undaunted by the criticism.  "My first obligation 
is to myself as an artist, and I have to trust my instincts," he said.  
"If making this movie was a mistake, I have to trust that this is a 
mistake that I'll learn from."