Too bad Eve at 44 can’t sit right down and read the novel in which she stars, Delia Ephron’s wonderful new Hanging Up (307 pages. Putnam. $23.95). A couple of hours with Ephron’s dry, beautifully targeted witticisms would cheer up the most bedraggled victim of midlife crises. “Hanging Up” was inspired in part by Ephron’s own family members, including her late father, screenwriter Henry Ephron, who wrote “Desk Set” and other films with her mother, Phoebe. Also in the household were big sister Nora, the writer and director (“Sleepless in Seattle”), and two more sisters turned writers, Amy Ephron and Hallie Touger. No matter which sibling prompted the character of Eve’s sister Georgia, she’s a masterpiece: a cross between Martha Stewart and Helen Gurley Brown, she runs a fabulously successful magazine named Georgia. Her motto: “We’re not afraid to sound stupid if it’s smart.” Ephron has written humor and kids’ books, and coauthored screenplays, including “Sleepless,” but “Hanging Up” marks her first foray into adult fiction. What a terrific debut.
title: “All About Eve” ShowToc: true date: “2023-01-07” author: “Sylvia Lang”
A year ago most of these people had no idea who Eve was. She had yet to play Vin Diesel’s slick promoter in this summer’s blockbuster “XXX,” wasn’t even close to landing a prominent role in Ice Cube’s film “Barbershop” (which opens Sept. 13), and was only just gaining recognition for the crossover hit single “Let Me Blow Ya Mind” with No Doubt’s Gwen Stefani. Eve, who rose out of the New York rap collective Ruff Ryders, was simply known as hip-hop’s Pit Bull in a Skirt, one of the genre’s strongest, smartest–and only independent–female voices. But now, as she reaches out to millions more with her third album, “Eve-Olution” (out this week), the 23-year-old walks the line between retaining her street cred and appealing to Middle America. “I try not to overthink the situation,” says Eve. “If you think about fame too much, something always goes wrong.”
“Eve-Olution” shows Eve’s intuition in full effect. Her longtime mentor, Ruff Ryders’ CEO Dee Dean, was hospitalized due to a car crash during the recording, so for the first time Eve was truly her own guide. The result: an album even more personal and diverse than her last, and songs inspired by a whole set of new influences. “I don’t listen to a lot of hip-hop anymore because I can’t respect it,” admits Eve, who’s now drawn to reggae and rock. “Some people are gonna hate me for this, but it’s like you’re not busting guns anymore. We got in the business to get away from all of that. If you’re gonna talk about it, at least have a moral to the story. You’re not sellin’ drugs anymore. It’s like, ‘C’mon! Talk about something else’.” And that’s exactly what Eve does. To crisp, lean, catchy music and beats (by a host of producers including Dr. Dre and Swizz Beatz), she raps about a boy toy on her “short list of few,” an ecologically messed-up world (a la Marvin Gaye) where she “can’t trust the air” she breathes and an old boyfriend jealous over Eve turning “all Hollywood and s–t.”
Acting was never really part of Eve’s master plan, and she bristles at the idea of having to mold herself into the role of a waiflike actress. “I do four sets of 12 with my fork, and that’s it. I’ve tried personal trainers and the protein diet. I’m just not with that s–t.” But she took her role in “Barbershop” seriously. Eve pumped herself up for the role by repeatedly watching one her favorite films. “I love ‘Sling Blade’,” she says, “and I was so inspired by Billy Bob Thornton. That’s art, being able to play that character throughout a whole movie. I thought, ‘I wanna do that’.” She does not slay anyone with a lawn-mower blade in “Barbershop,” but does play the only female barber in a small South Side Chicago shop–the sort of role Eve is used to as the only woman in the Ruff Ryders clan. “She’s a tough girl,” says Eve of her character, “but you still see some of her vulnerability.”
Eve was born to teenage parents who split up when she was 12. She grew up with her mom and grandmother in Philadelphia. “I knew girls that were so dependent on men for everything,” she says. “I’ve never been like that. That comes from my mother. She said you should be able to do what you wanna do when you wanna do it, and never have to depend on another person.” In her late teens, she became rapper Eve of Destruction and signed with Dr. Dre’s new Aftermath label, but then fell through the cracks. She eventually met up with DMX, who brought her into the Ruff Ryders camp, where she cut her debut in 1999. Eve still talks and raps about her former life and friends she tried not to leave behind. “It makes you think, ‘Am I supposed to be doing this?’ " she says. “For so long you and your friends are like, ‘Yo, we gonna get rich rapping!’ Then you get it and they’re like, ‘You changed.’ I’m saying, ‘Wait, isn’t this what we talked about? Isn’t this what we wanted?’ "
The photo shoot is done and Eve climbs into a waiting Ford Excursion with her handlers–a publicist, hairstylist, makeup artist, clothing stylist and bodyguard. As the driver revs the engine, fans pop their heads in the window to say goodbye. They still see the superstar rapper and future movie queen as one of them. A woman wearing a Gap employee badge hands Eve a flier. “Here’s a 30 percent off friends-and-family discount at the Gap,” she says. “It’s just Saturday and Sunday, though. Bye, Eve.”
