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Hustle
& Flow
Finally,
a fairly good 2005 summer film! Not perfect,
mind you, but "jeri-curled"
head and shoulders above the crop so far.
The plot of Hustle & Flow
isn't even particularly original, combining
the old Tin Pan Alley songwriter paradigm
updated with a “pimp has dream” trope
derived from the all-too-familiar "prostitute
with a heart of gold" scenario. Still,
Terrence Howard turns in one of the year's
first Oscar-caliber performances as Memphis
pimp Djay, the putative hero of his own
tale. The movie depends on the audience
rooting for Djay, no matter how uncomfortable
that may be.
After
all, this "hero" beats up one
member of his rag-tag stable of "hos"
and puts another out on the street with
her baby, which should really make him
the villain of the piece. It definitely
feels unnatural to generate sympathy for
a guy like this. But we do--at least
those in the audience who don't get hung
up on the fact that the biggest hustlers
in this film aren't the Memphis pimps
and "hos" on screen, but H&F
writer/director Craig Brewster and
producer John Singleton behind the scenes.
Those
two are certainly a match made on celluloid.
Brewster, a white writer, has been mining
the mean streets of his native Memphis
since his 2000 debut film The Poor
and Hungry, about a white Memphis
car thief who falls in love with one of
his victims. Singleton staked out his
own mean-street cred with Boyz ‘N
the Hood. That they share a similar
sensibility pulls H&F back
from the jaws of Blaxploitation, but only
just. Since everybody's exploiting everybody
in this scenario--both on screen and off--they
would have us believe "it's all good."
What
actually is good is the incredible cast.
Besides the enormously charismatic
Howard (who has already demonstrated his
prodigious talent this year alone in such
high-profile outings as Lackawanna
Blues, Their Eyes Were Watching God, and
Crash ), there are several other
outstanding performances, especially among
the women. Unfortunately, their roles--as
"ho's"--are all too familiar,
and even when they're treated better,
they're still mistreated.
Djay's
stable consists of his main "earner," Nola
(Taryn Manning), a skinny, strung-out
white girl who is also his confidante
as they wait for tricks in the front seat
of his busted-up Chevy. That leaves
the whiny, pregnant Shug (Taraji P. Henson),
who works at home and baby-sits for the
loud-mouthed stripper Lexus (Paula Jai
Parker), who wants out of hooking.
Actually
everyone, including Key (Anthony Anderson),
Djay's on-the-straight-and-narrow high
school buddy, dreams of doing something
else. But it's Djay's dream that
provides the rest with the means to achieve
at least part of their own. Although it's
a young man's game and he's almost 40,
Djay wants to rap or "flow"
Memphis-style, and once Lexus is dispatched,
the rest are free to produce (Key), sing
back-up (Shug), or do the marketing
(Nola) of and for Djay's song.
The
song--an exceedingly energetic and catchy
little ditty entitled "Whoop the
Trick"--articulates Djay's claim
that "It's hard out here for a pimp,"
a sentiment that borders on the satiric,
even as the film plays it straight. Djay's
hero is the successful rapper "Skinny
Black" (Howard's Crash
co-star Chris Bridges aka Ludacris), who
evidently made it out of Memphis without
becoming a pimp. When Djay tries
to hustle Skinny Black into listening
to his tape, the ensuing melee is the
film's most outrageous commentary on the
current state of American Rap celebrity.
The
film's conclusion lends credence to the
idea that a prison sentence is a sure
route to a Billboard bullet, if not a
drive-by one. H&F
is at once familiar and subversive,
coupling its pseudo-sweaty realism with
its underdog dreams. And it almost succeeds
in having it both ways--hustle and sincerity--thanks
to its dedicated cast. The film has already
won major awards, plus a huge distribution
deal (for an indie). To paraphrase one
of Djay's myriad riffs, "If Brewster
and Singleton can pimp $8 million out
of Paramount/MTV, they can pimp an audience."
Leslie (Hoban) Blake
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