Hustle & Flow Review
By Joe Lozito
Pimp and Circumstance
There's an inherent dishonesty in writer-director Craig Brewer's "
Hustle & Flow." In telling the story of a Memphis pimp named DJay with dreams of getting his voice heard as a rapper, Mr. Brewer's script, in order to make DJay sympathetic, never shows what really goes on in his world. The prostitutes that surround him are startlingly well-adjusted, despite the occasional temper-tantrum and the worst drug we see is marijuana. While they turn countless tricks in various backseats, they always appear instantly in the next scene looking none the worse for wear. However, to his credit, Mr. Brewer does create a believably gritty world as much as he can. In fact, the director spends so much time setting up a realistic vision of this Memphis underbelly, that it makes it all the more jarring when his script slides into predictable melodrama.
Early in the film, DJay (Terrance Dashon Howard) assembles a rag-tag team of musicians, including producer Key (Anthony Anderson, toning down his usual mugging) and white DJ Shelby (the appropriately named DJ Qualls). There are some amusing scenes as they throw together a make-shift studio in the backroom of the house DJay shares with three of his prostitutes. When it comes down to making music, though, DJay, and Mr. Brewer, are all business. As a rapper, Mr. Howard's style and flow most resemble that of the late Tupac Shakur, which, of course, is high praise.
While there are some obligatory scenes of feuding in the studio, the film does a good job showing how desperation can lead to inspiration - something which Eminem's "8 Mile" flirted with but never nailed. The songs, while not as "garage" as you'd expect considering the setting, are not too overly-produced and Mr. Howard's lyrics have an easy, effortless rhythm that seem to stem from the soul of his character.
Once DJay has his demo tape together (much fun is poked at using audio tape in the 21st century), the film takes a turn for the contrived in an extended sequence featuring Ludacris (the rapper-turned-actor has a natural presence on screen). The film is propelled past its machinations, however, by Mr. Howard's performance. We've seen him bite into roles before, particularly in last year's "Crash", but he has never had a chance to expose his range like this. Mr. Howard doesn't get soft on us even when the script does; he doesn't let us forget who DJay really is. Particularly upsetting is a scene in which DJay deals with Lexus, a hooker with a particularly loud mouth and little concern for her infant. The actor gives DJay a lived-in feel which should absolutely nab him an Oscar nomination and, depending on the success of the soundtrack, a recording contract. Mr. Howard never lets us forget that Hollywood endings might be easy, but pimpin' just ain't.
