Despite the weather, the AMC Lincoln Square Theater was mobbed with Biggie loyalists, paparazzi and onlookers when I arrived. Fellow Brooklynites Spike Lee, Jay-Z and Fabolous made their way into the lobby as Diddy, one of the producers of Notorious, rolled up in a powder gray Maybach. The crowd included record moguls, fashion designers, publishers and, of course, plenty of rappers: Q-Tip, Nas, Busta Rhymes, Jadakiss. A few writers who had sat down with Big for interviews (myself included) swapped stories.

The screening of Notorious was delayed about 90 minutes as guests mingled. But from the moment the house lights faded out, everyone was hooked on the movie. Some of us may have had low expectations (think: cable biopic) when we took our seats. But director George Tillman Jr., working with a screenplay by Cheo Hodari Coker and Reggie Rock Bythewood, has put together a riveting portrait of the rap icon. For people nostalgic for that period in hip hop, it’s a thrill to see Big (played by newcomer Jamal Woolard) first pick up the mike and spit classic verses, as if for the first time. The film shows him annihilate another emcee in a neighborhood battle and later follows him into a weed-smoke-filled basement studio, where he records demo tracks that are all the more impressive for seeming completely effortless.

Big was a brilliant lyricist, who had it all —versatility, wordplay, flow, storytelling, jokes, boasts and more tales of crime than the 10 o’clock news. And the dude was only 24.

On a side note, it was cool to watch my old neighborhood depicted on screen. Big grew up on St. James Place in Brooklyn, and for a number of years I lived two blocks over, in a brownstone on Waverly Avenue. Fulton Street, which we called “the Ave,” is where you see Big start dealing drugs. That was my corner.

But back to the movie.

One of a handful of serious films made about rappers, Notorious does its best to flesh out the life of its protagonist, exposing the anxiety Big felt when he was starting out. There’s a great scene in an interrogation room, and another in a parked car after Big first hears of his mother’s failing health. Woolard comes off as a natural (as does Naturi Naughton, who plays Lil’ Kim). He not only looks and sounds the part — mastering the rapper’s trademark wheezing — but he also brings the character to life with swagger and sensitivity. It’s one thing to nail someone’s delivery or stage mannerisms. But in some of his best scenes, Woolard shows Big was as charismatic as he was intimidating and ambitious.

My beef with the film (you can see its faults and still enjoy it) is it needed to be darker, especially the section where Big is hustling on the streets. This is a guy who titled his debut album Ready to Die. That world — the tedium, the danger, the hilarity, the paranoia — is often a test of what people are made of, inside. I wanted to go on that emotional journey with Big. It was only once he left the drug game and tasted success as a rapper that, I think, Big (who was built like an offensive lineman: 6-foot-3 and more than 300 pounds) was truly ready to live, again. His murder robbed him of that chance. And that is what makes his story so tragic.

Still, the buzz about Notorious carried over to the Roseland Ballroom, where we met for the premiere’s after-party. It was open bar and the dance floor was mobbed as D Nice and DJ Cassidy spun a mix of old-school soul, vintage B.I.G. and new joints from the Notorious soundtrack. I spotted someone in a Coogi sweater; Big used to rock those all the time. Later that night, his widow, R&B songbird Faith Evans, grabbed the mike onstage. It was bananas at this point, but that didn’t stop her from telling everybody to make some noise. Then she shouted, “Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?” And the crowd lost it. You saw hands go up, followed by roars and screams. It didn’t matter that we were in midtown Manhattan. To everyone on the floor, feeling Big’s spirit, it felt just like Brooklyn.