Two seminal cultural events — both 20 years in their making — are deserving of the limelight right now, but you are probably only hearing about one.

For more than a year leading up to its release last week, the entertainment media has been enthralled with “Watchmen,” the film adaptation of an iconic 1986 graphic novel about a group of unlikely superheroes.

On a smaller platform but enjoying no less enthusiasm from its devotees is “This is the Life,” an engrossing look at a collective of conscious hip-hop artists who in December 1989 began congregating at the Good Life health food cafe in South Los Angeles. The feature-length documentary, directed and financed by former Good Life emcee Ava DuVernay, chronicles their stories, as for the next five years they created an alternative, underground movement that to this day influences a uniquely L.A. style of hip-hop with enduring international appeal.

Located at the intersection of Crenshaw and Exposition Boulevards, the Good Life cafe was founded by Omar and Ife Sade, and became an oasis of mental and spiritual well-being that offered nights of spoken word, politics and jazz. The Thursday hip-hop night came about when storied community activist B. Hall teamed up with her artist son, Arcane Blaze (real name Roderick Hall), to add a youth element to the entertainment.

Known then as “Queen B,” the elder Hall instituted a strict set of rules that included a ban on swearing. The emcees followed with their own edict of “passing the mic” when the crowd collectively decided a rapper was not up to snuff.

The enduring legacy of the collective, which would spread beyond the city and touched a global fan base, is reflected in the fact that many of its alumni are currently performing around the United States, Europe, Asia and South America. Some of the seminal acts included Myka Nyne, Jurassic 5, HipHopKlan, Riddlore, Ellay Khule, Medusa, Figure of Speech, Volume 10, Abstract Rude, T-Love, Peace and Pigeon John.

“It became a Mecca for skill,” Peace says early on in the documentary.

Born in Lynwood, DuVernay was a fresh-faced UCLA student when she heard about the cafe and formed the duo Figure of Speech with emcee partner Jyant (Ronda Ross). “It was an amazing experience that I could never forget,” said DuVernay, who performed under the name of Eve and now heads a film marketing agency that has created campaigns for the likes of Steven Spielberg and Michael Mann. “I was part of the movement as an artist and it was the most imaginative, fertile and creative place I’ve ever been to — then or now.”

Added DuVernay, as she spent a recent afternoon in Leimert Park reminiscing alongside Medusa and Ellay Khule: “I always knew I wanted to do a Good Life film, but thought I’d do it when I was better funded. Anyway, I just decided to go for it and started shooting in June 2007, and we had our first cut by September. We found archive footage everywhere — in people’s garages, under beds, in and out of state.”

Amierr Bratton, who with his CVE production crew helped create many of the beats that accompanied his friends’ freestyle rhymes, remembers the first night the cafe allowed MCs to showcase their skills.

“I was in a group called ABC, the African Brothers Collective, with Arcane Blaze and a few other brothers who were at UCLA with him,” Bratton recalled in a telephone interview from his home in Fresno. “The group had put out a tape called ‘Underground Railroad.’ We performed at different shows but didn’t have our own place and so Blaze got together with his mom to open the doors on that night.”

Bratton, who is still part of the independent hip-hop scene through his affiliation with the Covert Records label, paid tribute to the Good Life as more than just a music phenomenon. “People only talk about the gangsta rap from Compton, Long Beach and South Central,” he said. “The Good Life was real hip-hop, an expression of what people felt — not just saying anything to get money. I know people who were killed or in jail, were [gang] bangin’ or on the verge. But when you got to the Good Life it changed your thinking and your consciousness level all round.”

According to Bratton, the popularity of the night grew almost immediately. Pretty soon, now well-known rap personalities like Fat Joe were being “mic passed”; and the Good Life was discovered by the mainstream as music industry executives converged to snap up talent, with mixed results.

“It was still a great phenomenon to have 60 or 70 emcees come through that amazing period,” said Ellay Khule, who still performs, and is part of a still-breathing post-Good Life movement called Project Blowed. “As underground artists we can still have the space to grow. I can still go and rap on a record with Snoop or work with the next generation of rappers at Blowed. Our fan base is around the world. In the last year I’ve performed in London, Nancy, Helsinki and Berlin.”

Along with this week’s release of the DVD, the documentary is also showing through March 17 at the Downtown Independent Theater in downtown L.A. On Tuesday, some of the innovative rappers and beatmakers who formed the Good Life movement played a one-night reunion concert at the House of Blues on Sunset Boulevard.

Perhaps Medusa, whose given name is Moné Smith, deserves the last and poetic word. “With the Good Life you got to express every person that is inside of you: the thug one moment, the mommy the next,” she said. “Ultimately, it’s about freedom and the people you touch.”