Who's The Paul Dano Of Rap?

I know I'm not the only one disappointed by The Batman, the exceedingly dark 2002 cinematic reboot of the comic book superhero. Following Christopher Nolan's universally hailed Dark Knight trilogy would've been a tough task for any director, and as a fan of Matt Reeves' two very entertaining installments in the Planet Of The Apes saga I hoped he could find something new to bring to Gotham City. To his credit, the film made a lot of money, spawned a stopgap HBO spin-off series with Colin Farrell reprising his take on The Penguin, and assured that the story would continue in sequel now slated for 2027. To his detriment, Reeves produced the worst Batman villain to grace the so-called silver screen since Joel Schumacher trotted out pro-wrestler Jeep Swenson in 1997 to play a maddeningly nonverbal Bane.

I'm talking, of course, about Paul Dano. And over the past week, so has just about everyone in the movie business as well as countless online cinephiles after Quentin Tarantino dared to say some very rude things about him to American Psycho author Bret Easton Ellis. But rather than lambast the 41-year-old actor for his role as Reeves' Se7en-nodding sociopath version of The Riddler, the Pulp Fiction director laid into him for his "weak" performance in Paul Thomas Anderson's acclaimed There Will Be Blood.

The setting–a podcast hosted by a bonafide literary heel–coupled with Tarantino's diminished public image of late, despite the success of his last feature, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, didn't exactly help his hyperbolic declaration of Dano as "the weakest actor in SAG" go over very well. (Admittedly, if you read his book Cinema Speculation, some of the best moments are when he's ragging on certain actors in movies he otherwise adores.) The outcry was clear, with directors and acting peers rushing to the defamed thespian's defense, with some stray snark thrown the speaker's way. Still, few with any sway in the business seemed to have the appetite to go too hard in that latter category, given his stature as a filmmaker as well as the owner/operator of some of Los Angeles' coolest cinemas.

Yet as so many sought to prop up Dano in his time of need–a man was mean about him online–I was reminded of how little I myself regarded him as an actor. The Batman aside, I too considered him pretty forgettable in There Will Be Blood, a film I vividly remember seeing at a movie theater in Kew Gardens one afternoon during its initial run but rarely thinking about his part in it save for the pointed (or should I say, rounded) ending. I had to look up his IMDB page to even recall that he was in Little Miss Sunshine, and while there I had to take in that he'd been in such culturally relevant flicks as Knight And Day and Cowboys & Aliens. But people really loved him in Swiss Army Man, or so I'm told, and in Prisoners, a favorite film of mine despite him being the least of its leads.

Whether or not you adored Dano in The Fabelmans or regarded him in 12 Years A Slave, what really struck me about this December discourse was the vociferousness of the defense. It got me thinking if hip-hop has any equivalents, a veteran rapper whose presence on other people's projects could be acknowledged dismissively or indifferently unless challenged in public by a hater of prominence. For instance, would artists rally around Ace Hood, whose best known single "Bugatti" is perhaps best known for Future's hook, if Cam'ron besmirched him on an episode of It It What It Is or Joe Budden did so on his namesake show? Seeing as the former We The Best Music rapper just announced a string of 2026 headlining U.S. tour dates, it does make the question rise slightly higher than a thought exercise.

But even this framing warrants a subject who has both the profile and the goodwill necessary to elicit a universally supportive response like Dano has received. Neither Ace Hood, nor his former WTBM cohort Vado, seem to meet the combined criteria. There could be some case to make for those who were heavily present on Atlanta trap mixtapes back in the late 2000s and into the mid-2010s, some 1017 castoffs mayhaps. Here in NYC, the ongoing dry aged beef between Jim Jones and Tony Yayo hasn't produced any clear winners. And, I mean, we certainly didn't see this type of reaction for J.R. Writer fame when the aforementioned Budden took some swipes at him in 2023.

Ultimately, I have to wonder whether Dano has a parallel in hip-hop at all. Maybe we just handle rap business differently...

Deniro Farrar & Child Actor, Raw Materials

(buy it / stream it)

For those who were paying close enough attention to independent hip-hop in the 2010s, Deniro Farrar's name should spark recognition. The Charlotte, NC native's projects like Rebirth and two volumes of The Patriarch put him in a lot of conversations, but his relative absence from rap in the 2020s suggested that, like so many, he'd moved on to other pursuits. Thus, his unexpected 2025 run has been nothing short of thrilling, with two albums' worth of music with producer Marc Spano and now a third with erstwhile collaborator Child Actor in the midst of his own glow-up. Raw Materials feels both personal and potent, at times to a confessional extent, with verdant, sinuous instrumentals underpinning the unvarnished verses. Farrar offers both frankness and justifications on hazy opener "Gravel," a lyrical tactic he returns to on "Lithium" and the matter-of-fact rundown "Synthetic Fibers." He seethes over sketchy hustlers and superficial haters on "Kinetic Sands," which soon spirals into memories of Christmases past and the looming consequences of criminality.

Sonnyjim & Morriarchi, Golden Parachute

(buy it / stream it)

Sonnyjim finished 2024 strong with the Graymatter-produced Exotic Peng Collection. With the beguiling Golden Parachute, the Birmingham, UK rapper seeks to cap off this calendar year in a similarly robust fashion. Coupled with beats, by the always-on-point Morriarchi, the restraint now signature to his transfixing delivery makes this a cinematic slow-burn plotted like an Olivier Assayas or Michael Mann thriller. Marked by delicacies and movie nods, his lyrics are generously peppered with subtle flexes and sagacious asides on tracks like "Scotch & Escovitch" and "John Daly Sports Club." Much of the listening experience skews post-illbient, abstractly jazzy, eerily cold, though the scenery shifts to a vocoder-lit boogie wonderland on "The Real Thing," with Tay Jordan and hip-hop's funk phenom Jay Worthy rolling with the lead emcee. Such cameos support the overall vibe, none better perhaps than Fly Anakin on the penultimate "New Jersey Drive."

Three new tracks to snack on...

Bruiser Wolf & Harry Fraud, "Tubi"

Jay Cinema & rivan, "Weezy F"

Pink Siifu, "4doe [Ext]"