In 2019, Madlib and Freddie Gibbs released a music video to their song “Crime Pays.” Directed by Nick Walker, the video includes scenes of Gibbs running a zebra and horse farm, on land surrounded by snow-capped mountains, and a skit midway through where he berates multiple farm hands for working too slow. The video is aesthetically beautiful, but Gibbs’ short performance always stood out to me. Freddie Gibbs is one of the funniest and most quick-witted rappers today, and anyone who is a fan could see that becoming an actor in a feature film is a natural next step for his career. In the Austin Film Festival Q&A, director Diego Ongaro mentioned seeing Gibbs’ videos, and Down with the King stylistically feels like an extended cut of “Crime Pays,” as well as a deep dive into Freddie Gibbs’ real life.
On the surface, Down with the King comes off as a story about an artist trying to find their inspiration to create. Like Kanye’s retreat to rural Wyoming in 2017, Mercury Maxwell (Freddie Gibbs) is a rapper staying on a farm in the middle of the wilderness while he works in solitude on his next album. Or at least that is what his manager (David Krumholtz) and label think is going on. From the start, you’re waiting for Mercury to find his inspiration in the trees, or in the sound of animals rusting around at night. Instead, we realize he’s seeking out something else. By helping out at a new friend’s farm, Mercury grasps at his family’s history to try to find happiness and his own place outside of the music industry.
Mercury isn’t a classic “fish out of water” and the film doesn’t play up that aspect. His newfound life in rural Massachusetts is full of farm animal care with his friend Bob (Bob Tarasuk). Mercury takes on the tasks of feeding, killing, and skinning animals without acting like it’s beneath him. He is genuinely interested in learning about farming and how to exist in his new environment, yet Mercury doesn’t change himself to better fit in. The film is split between helping on Bob’s farm and scenes of Mercury lounging around his rented mansion, smoking weed, and working on songs. It was refreshing to see Ongaro, and co-writer Xabi Molia, avoid these tropes, and even when it does delve into the “new guy” making mistakes, it feels authentic.
The most important takeaway from this film is that Freddie Gibbs is a star. This is already apparent to anyone who’s seen him perform or watched his music videos. He can act, and despite basically playing himself in this role, the film is so centered on him that any other musician might not have been able to carry this story. Down with the King has so many quiet moments that rely completely on Gibbs’ ability to show Mercury’s frustration and an unexplainable need to get away from the life he built for himself in the rap industry. His growing dissatisfaction with his manager, his music, his fans, builds throughout the film until the moment he realizes he must decide.
Down with the King goes deeper than just introspection; overall it comments on the nature of the music industry, specifically rap, and a Black man’s desire to control his destiny. Mercury is trying to find what he really wants in life after choosing the first option he could to get away from the violence and poverty of his childhood. With these themes, you would think this is a heavy-handed drama, but Down with the King feels light, even in its quietest moments, thanks to the humor embedded into the script, and through improvisation between actors who clearly became friends on set.
While not perfectly paced, and with an ending that felt abrupt, Down with the King shows a new perspective on the rap industry and an artist ensnared in it. I wish there were more films focused on what this industry can be like for artists that are constantly scrutinized by their fans and peers. Down with the King is a window into the inner feelings of a man who is worn down by the constant show, and wants to live a simpler life. This is a breakout role for Freddie Gibbs and I hope to see more acting opportunities open up to him in the future.
