'Hustle & Flow': Crank up the Crunk
By CHRIS GARCIA
Austin American-Statesman
Djay (Terrence Howard) sits with his girls in a ratty old Chevy sedan, waiting in the Memphis swelter, without air conditioning, for prowling johns. Parked below overpasses or in vacant lots, Djay and the women pass the time conversing and complaining. He's tired of the pimp life, has dreams of riding musical stardom out of the ghetto, just as his rapper idol Skinny Black (Ludacris) did. He looks at Nola (Taryn Manning), the prostitute with a mop of thin blond braids that look like spaghetti dumped on her head. And he says: "Whatcha wanna do with your life?"
Paramount Classics
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With that, "Hustle & Flow" embarks on its low-key fairy tale about snatching your dreams and running. Djay knows what he wants to do with his life — rap hard, rap good — and he will tear at the barbed-wired ramparts of his social strata to get it.
If you're thinking "8 Mile" and a dozen other inspirational melodramas, you are in the right place. Yet if "Hustle & Flow" exalts fatigued Hollywood clichˇs by barely reworking them, it does so with a dirty patina of old-school authenticity, a stripped-down grunge and undertow of danger that separates it from a pure gloss production. (Though, without giving anything away, the film eventually surrenders its emotional cred by shining light into a situation that would more likely deflect it.)
While "8 Mile" was set in Detroit's rap-rhyme scene, "Hustle," by newcomer Craig Brewer introduces the other-side-of-the-tracks world of Memphis crunk, or Southern hip-hop, including fresh, thumping songs by local practitioners Three 6 Mafia and Al Kapone. Brewer comes from Memphis, which he depicts with evocative ease. He has the light, confident touch of one who knows his topic, plunking us into the seedy milieu, no preamble or push needed. With raw street vernacular, weedy rundown 'hoods and the sheen of sweat on his characters, he captures a believable bedraggled ambience.
What really keeps "Hustle & Flow" together and grooving is leading man Howard, who was so electrifying in the recent "Crash." His Djay is a low-grade pimp and pot dealer. He has roller-straightened hair and speaks in a smoky mumble. Howard, a gorgeous guy with the soulful cat eyes of Benicio Del Toro, marinates Djay in silken cool. His performance is deceptively unadorned, but it is intensely detailed and ferociously self-possessed, providing the drama's magnetic center.
There's something likable about this pimp with a heart of low-grade gold. His aspirations give him lift and make him a hero who isn't that much different than Russell Crowe's self-realized hero in "Cinderella Man." Though he can go low, like pimping out Nola for a new microphone, he's sensitive and has a conscience.
To kick-start his dreams of music glory, Djay buys a toy Casio keyboard that produces tinny sonic splashes and tinkles. He persuades old friend Key (the excellent Anthony Anderson) to help him craft beats to match his rhymes. Key brings along turntable scratcher Shelby — played by "Road Trip's" DJ Qualls, whose standout feature is a nose like Pinocchio's in mid-lie — and they cut tracks in the ramshackle house Djay shares with a trio of prostitutes and a yowling baby.
Even in the cringe-inducing moment of epiphany, when all the elements of a song come together and everyone smiles and high-fives for a group-hug cliche, you feel the excitement of something happening. That the crunk tunes are catchy and chunky, with stirring vocal assists from Djay's girls, doesn't hurt viewer good will.
Everyone gets into the act and "Hustle & Flow" becomes, generously, more than just Djay's rise. The music gives hope to all of the characters and that familiar feel-good swell does its thing in us. The movie's formulaic contours get blasted out by a beat that feels new and urgent and now.
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