Forever young and forever dead, Tupac Shakur doesn't need a movie sanctioned by his mother to convince legions of fans he was a sensitive poet, not an ignorant thug. Like Kurt Cobain and Bob Marley, Shakur's provocative output and early demise are enough to ensure his visage will be hung on teenaged bedroom walls for eternity.

But the non-hip-hop-listening public who know Shakur mainly from headlines of his near constant run-ins with the law -- including a 1994 sexual assault conviction that landed him in jail for eight months -- might still need convincing that the late rapper and actor was, in the words of one of his biographers, Michael Eric Dyson, a "ghetto saint."

That's where "Tupac: Resurrection," the feature-length documentary directed by MTV films' Lauren Lazin with the cooperation of Afeni Shakur, comes in. It's a compelling piece of propaganda that argues for Shakur, whose 1996 murder in Las Vegas at age 25 remains unsolved, as a complicated individual, ambitious artist and magnetic personality by using the most persuasive weapons at its command: Tupac himself.

In fact, those who think that Shakur took the advice of political philosopher Niccolo Machiavelli and faked his own death will see "Resurrection" as more reason to believe that 'Pac lives. That's because, through the magic of clever editing of extensive MTV interviews, Shakur, who comes off as charismatic and contemplative, narrates the movie himself. He seems to be speaking from the great beyond -- or perhaps from his rumored hideout in Cuba -- when he tells us: "This is my story, a story about ambition, violence, redemption and love," or, eerily, "I knew I was gonna get shot."

Unlike countless other documentaries, "Resurrection" doesn't get bogged down trying to solve the murders of Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G. Instead, it concentrates on exploring Shakur's dual, seemingly contradictory nature. The child of Black Panther activists who studied ballet and could say "Shakespeare is my dog" with a straight face, he was also a hothead who needed to prove that he wasn't the least bit soft. Just because he pledged his love to his "Dear Mama," didn't mean he couldn't traffic in heinous misogyny as well.

It follows his beginnings with the Oakland rap crew Digital Underground, emergence as a politicized voice on solo albums "2Pacalypse Now" and "Me Against the World," and early `90s stature as a whipping boy for gangsta rap critics C. DeLores Tucker and William Bennett. And it tracks his rise as a riveting presence as both an actor -- alongside Janet Jackson in "Poetic Justice," among other roles -- and as a bling bling superstar rapper, after Death Row records Suge Knight bailed him out of jail and he hooked up with Dr. Dre on earth-quaking hits such as "California Love."

"Resurrection," which arrives with a soundtrack album that features new music from Eminem, 50 Cent and of course, 2Pac himself, isn't a total whitewash. Shakur's criminal troubles are addressed, and he is portrayed as deeply flawed, if always aware of his own failings. But Shakur's articulate arguments for his own importance are such that open minded naysayers will have to grudgingly admit that the polarizing rapper and actor was a fascinating, talented figure. And devotees will find in "Resurrection" further evidence of something they already knew: Tupac will live forever.

"Tupac: Resurrection" B

Director: Lauren Lazin

Studio: Paramount Pictures

Rated: R (for intense profanity and scenes of sex, violence and drug use)

Running time: 90 min.