Hustle & Flow

Incredibly moving, yet definitely not for everyone, Hustle & Flow tells the story of D-Jay, an incredibly conflicted Memphis pimp down on his luck. In one of the most raw and intense performances of recent memory, newcomer Terrence Howard embodies D-Jay with an animal-like ferocity that will help you overcome what few formulaic clichés embody the script. In his mid forties, D-Jay seems too old and far too nice for his profession, and his "hos" seem to take notice. You see, D-Jay represents a lifetime of failed dreams, ambitions, and wrong turns. It seems as if it could all be over, but then fate offers him the opportunity to realize his life-long goal of becoming a successful rap star. D-Jay pours his heart and soul into his music, just as Howard pours his into the performance, and the result is somewhat of a urban Rocky, a true underdog tale. This is perhaps the first hip-hop film to actually get it right, and everything that 8-Mile should have been. Don't let the subject matter keep you from enjoying Howard's brutal tour-de-force.

Movies and music, that's the winning combo when it comes to industry amalgams but haven't we seen it all? We have the good; The Bodyguard and 8 Mile, the bad Honey and the downright ugly aka Glitter (put the crossbow down, I had to mention it). However, this John Singleton produced flick snipes at the genre from a different angle.

The increasingly talented Terence Howard (recently seen in Ray and Crash), plays DJay, a pimp turned rapper who wants to prove his worth and swap his tricks for a trade in America's crunked up south.

Newcomer Craig Brewer takes the helm as we visit Memphis and see it through the eyes of the down but not outters consisting of DJay and his working girls. When he reunites with school friend Key (Anthony Anderson) they decide to take charge of their lives and realise their dream by putting together a demo tape of their skills, with the hope of hitting the big time.

This is not a bad movie, in fact Howard is equally as convincing as a pimp with a newly found heart and as a rapper, something that was both a bold and a fruitful choice. If the star hadn't convinced on any level it is a sure-fire guess to say a non-rapper would never be allowed to rap in a movie, but he did and he did it well.

The standard underdog making it to the big time route has been bypassed and replaced with a story that hold's your attention and has an unpredictable and real conclusion.

Amongst Flow's supporting cast, Isaac Hayes takes stage as the bar-owner who puts DJay in touch with the hometown's former star- Skinny Black, played sneeringly by Chris 'Ludacris' Bridges. As well as these two familiar songsters, Anthony Anderson and DJ Qualls, of Road Trip fame, make up the group and put in solid performances. The female cast who constitute DJay's trade are Eminem's ex-girlfriend in 8 Mile, Taryn Manning and Paula Jai Parker as the outspoken Lexus, again all providing non-sterling but convincing turns as part of the phat pack.

But it is Taraji P. Henson's part as the heavily pregnant Nola who catches the eye as a sweet and naïve part of the outfit. It is her who seems to be the only person that allows DJay to relinquish his sometimes brutal pimp suit and put on something more responsible and caring as he ventures out hustling for his right to fame.

This is not your standard cheer at the screen rise-to-fame story that Americans seem to love, too much. What it is, is a well thought out project that takes you on a journey of trials and tribulations that are the all more convincing when performances by Howard, Manning and Henson garnish the story.

Terrence Howard plays a Memphis pimp who decides to give hardcore rapping a shot in this arresting, gritty drama. Howard plays DJay, who pimps girls out of his beat-up Chevy Nova. When he comes into the possession of an electronic keyboard, DJay plays around with it and finds he has a talent for writing and performing hard, violent lyrics.

On its face, this seems like a typical "man rises from the ashes of his hardscrabble life to experience success and then watches it all crash down around him" kind of movie. It's not a movie about suffering, success, and redemption, in other words. But it's not as predictable as it may seem at first blush, and Howard is not your typical actor, by any shot.

DJay lives with his small stable of prostitutes in a tumble-down shack in the Memphis ghetto. As pimps go, he's not exactly Donald Trump. Some dance for an exotic club during the day and hook at night; some hook all day. But the money's not rolling in for DJay, who remains somewhat confident that he'll someday come out ahead. When he obtains the keyboard, inspiration strikes, and a chance encounter with an old classmate (Anthony Anderson) who's now a producer (of sorts) gives DJay the opportunity to jump out of the rotten life he's carved for himself.

This never feels like a typical rise-and-fall story, and that's thanks in no small part to the powerful performance by Howard, who's much better here than in the critically lauded (by some) Crash. Appearing with Howard in Crash was Ludicrous, who also has a big role in Hustle and Flow - hey, some rappers are very good actors, it turns out. Howard, aided by a crisp script from Craig Brewer, who also directed, never portrays DJay as simply a nice guy with some flaws, someone who's been handed a bad hand and is making the best of it. It's clear that DJay's made all of his own choices, and the situation he finds himself in - depending on hookers for his livelihood - is of his own doing.

But neither does the script show DJay as being entirely bad, either, as evidenced by some surprisingly tender, moving scenes between DJay and Key (Anderson) and DJay and Shug, his pregnant woman. These scenes don't come off as stilted or insincere, and that's thanks especially to Howard's strong performance. True, too, are the scenes in which DJay lays down a rap track in his home; you can feel the rage seeping through your television.

This movie might be a difficult sell to those who have trouble relating to the environment and atmosphere in which DJay operates. Undoubtedly those who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks will recognize aspects of their own lives, identifying strongly with one or more of the characters. But even those of us who have never lived in squalor, who've generally had advantages that others do not, can appreciate the intense, gray world in which DJay and his associates live. Had this been a simple, typical biography of a musician from the mean streets, it wouldn't have had near the effectiveness, the passion of Hustle and Flow. The movie intrigues you, makes you want to know what happens to DJay, even when it's obvious he's a bit of a jerk. But because he's not a stupid man, his actions cannot be painted as simply good or simply bad. Howard, in particular, is well deserving of his critical accolades here.

(Synopsis) DJay (Terrence Howard) is a streetwise hustler and Memphis pimp with a stable of 3 girls, Shug (Taraji Henson) who is pregnant and not working, Lexus (Paula Jai Parker) who works in a strip club, and Nola (Taryn Manning) who works out of DJay's old beat-up car in a back alley. Even with two girls working and DJay selling dirt-weed on the side, it is hard for them to make ends meet. The utility company is about to shut off their utilities, if they don't pay the bill. DJay feels that he has hit rock bottom, and he needs a change in his life. A bum trades him a Casio keyboard for some weed, and DJay takes it home. While playing the keys, DJay gets an inspiration to write rap music. He begins to write down his pimping style raps, his flow, in a little notebook while Nola is turning tricks. DJay runs into Key (Anthony Anderson), an old friend and sound engineer, who takes him to a church choir performance that reaches DJay's soul. DJay looks inside his soul and decides to get out of the business, and now he has a dream of becoming a rapper. DJay teams up with Key to make a demo song. Skinny Black (Ludacris) is a platinum selling rapper about to return to Memphis for the 4th of July. DJay believes he can hustle Skinny to hear his tape, and his dream will come true.

(Comment) The movie was filmed all around Memphis during 2004. Memphian Craig Brewer wrote and directed 'Hustle and Flow,' and I went to the red carpet movie premiere in Memphis on 6 July. Craig Brewer told the audience about his father's watch that was used in the movie, and he was wearing it for good luck that night. He was also wearing a 3-carat diamond ring that belonged to Sam Phillips. As for the movie, Terrence Howard's role as DJay is a remarkable one in that he becomes immersed in the character of DJay. Howard comes off as a real pimp with all the anger, conflicts, and frustrations, which he encounters in life. There is no such thing as a good pimp, but the character of DJay realizes that his women have dreams too, and that he wants to change everything around him and them for the better. The subject matter and the lyrics to the rap music are a little rough, but the movie is a good one to see. (Paramount Classics, Run time 1:54, Rated R) (8/10)

As a member of the Hollywood community, I was blown away by this film... By the tight screenplay, the professional direction, and the phenomenal acting. In my opinion, I think this is one of the best films of the year so far.

With that said, it is not a film for children. It is not a film meant to portray ideal role models for children. It IS a film meant to realistically depict the lives of people who live at the very bottom of America's socioeconomic ladder.

If you find yourself unable to reserve judgment against people born into a life so vastly different than your own, you will probably not like this film. In order to appreciate it, you have to be able to see past the moral and ethical ambiguities of these characters.

So if anyone feels unsure whether they can handle the ugliness of this type of world, but still feels curious enough to see it, take a cue from the Anthropologists...

When studying a culture vastly different than your own, make sure to leave the rights and wrongs of your society at home. Because once you impose the moral judgment and ethical standards of your world upon another's, you've sacrificed your objectivity. And by doing so, miss the very point of empathy.