Will Smith still wants to talk about it.
We are years removed from Smith slapping comedian Chris Rock at an Oscars ceremony—a ceremony that saw Smith receive his first Academy Award for Best Actor.
The moment inspired memes, comedy specials, career referendums, and tell-all memoirs from each party involved.
For longtime fans of Will Smith, the “Slap” either confirmed or shifted feelings about the talented actor’s role in Hollywood, and as a father and husband.
And for many, especially younger viewers unfamiliar with Smith’s pre-2000s popularity, the Slap also became a cultural touchstone and firebrand for conversations surrounding masculinity, race, and celebrity cancellation in media.
On his first album in two decades, Will Smith is here to say maybe it’s both. Or…perhaps it’s neither. Either way, he’s going to dance his way through his darkest moments.
By the end of the album, it is clear Smith is still on the campaign trail to reclaim a former semblance of his public image before the Slap. But is Smith’s message one worth endorsing, believing, or listening to at all?
As our team covered previously, Smith’s in-the-moment reaction and handling of the incident at his ill-fated Oscars ended in a redeemable message. Yet, the backlash and subsequent years of discussing the incident, along with Smith’s defensive, post-Slap interviews, have disrupted what could have been a positive turning point in his career.
Based on a True Story reveals a Smith who has seemingly kept track of everything said about him since the Slap. This pushes him to some equally hopeful and dark places.
On “Tantrum,” he raps, “I am not God, but I know I’m a son of Him.” Religious imagery such as this appears constantly throughout the album, serving as a foundation for Smith to return to whenever everything else in his life crumbles.
Elsewhere, Smith raps, “Devil want my soul, I couldn’t hand it over,” which echoes the positive advice from Denzel Washington that Smith cited during his acceptance speech at the Oscars.
On “Bulletproof,” Jac Ross joins Smith to rap, “Well, I got the keys to heaven/But I know things in hell/Well, I give my life something/But my soul just ain’t for sale.” Smith shares a similar sentiment later saying, “Hard times ain’t gonna last forever.”
These realizations lead Smith to conclude that he needs to take his situation “with a grain of salt.” Because in his eyes, these “beautiful scars” will allow him “to rise up again closer to God.”
Will Smith wants his listeners and fans to give him a second chance and embrace his journey. Yet there’s an emerging hypocrisy in his messaging, especially as his understanding of God’s role in his failures and shortcomings comes into focus.
“Work of Art” props up Smith as a misunderstood savior as he raps, “I am the judge, I’m the victim/I am in the Torah/In the Quran/And in the Bible.” He goes on to say, “I am Jesus/I am Judas” and “I’m the light/and I am the marriage.”
These claims mirror Smith’s inability to fully accept his role in his mistakes, and most glaringly, his slapping of Chris Rock. (At the time of this publication, Smith has yet to publicly apologize directly to Rock).
Across the album, Smith spends most of his time making excuses for his behavior, pushing the blame on “haters,” and urging followers to stay loyal because he is famous and has charisma.
On “Tantrum,” Smith raps, “My inner child keep throwin’ a tantrum/Ayy I took my traumas and made it a anthem…” Compounding this stance, he later says, “Whole world against me, and it ain’t even bothering me.”
Still, from the tone and messages of his songs, it’s evident that it does bother Smith. Especially on tracks such as, “Rave in the Wasteland” where Smith fashions himself as an outcast preacher proclaiming the Gospel of Will. He raps, “Come to the altar, changing the culture/Walking on water, I’m parting the oceans.”
A number of songs are unabashed in Smith’s opinions and blatant disregard for his haters. He raps, “my s— hot even though I won’t get nominated/Personal life with my wife, mind your business, it’s complicated/All that matters is the fact that I’m still getting compensated.”
Other songs also include implied references to Smith’s open marriage and infidelity with his wife, Jada Pinkett Smith. Several songs feature profanity including f-words, s-words, and “b—-” and “n—-” mainly used when addressing perceived hate or opinions from detractors.
The album also contains three skits fashioned as sermons. These tracks mimic the structure of a sermon, but Smith and his featured guests often bend the lessons to portray Smith in a favorable light despite his shortcomings.
Based on a True Story occupies a thin space between candid expression of honest reflection and surface-level pride based on one’s accomplishments and success.
Yet, the true story Smith claims as the basis for this album never fully materializes amidst his attempt to control the narrative of his public fall from grace.
His message remains as hollow as the soulless beats woven into these lifeless tracks. Bizarre lyrical choices paired with pointless profanity do little to support Smith’s case for reclamation.
As Smith recounts his public mishaps, he experiments with theology, often twisting ideas of grace and forgiveness in his favor. As his pleas grow more elaborate, the album’s message grows more troubling. On “You Can Make It” Smith begs his listeners, “Don’t give up on me, I need you to hold on.”
But this is only a moment after he just encouraged them “to keep walking through the valley of the shadow of death.”
While the reference to Psalm 23 is admirable, it’s apparent that Smith’s not attempting to lead people towards anyone but himself, much less Jesus Christ.
Jackson Greer is a High School English Teacher in the suburbs of Texas. He lives in Coppell, Texas with his wife, Clara. They love debating whether or not to get another cat and reading poetry together. Also, he is a former employee of Focus on the Family’s Parenting Department.
