Review of Hustle & Flow (2005) by Markb. — 30 Aug 2005

Remember the conversation the guys in the bar were having in an early episode of Cheers about which was the sweatiest movie of all time: Body Heat, Ben-Hur or Rocky II? Too bad this film didn't exist at the time: it might not have beaten those worthy nominees, but it certainly deserves Top 10 consideration! A vivid, pungent (and I mean that in a GOOD way) account of D-Jay, an impoverished Tennessee pimp who's inspired by a gospel singer's performance (!!!) to enter the music field himself, penning and performing rap songs about his work and lifestyle, Hustle & Flow benefits greatly from impressive background detail, atmospherically grainy cinematography that gives the movie a great 1970s blaxploitation/drive-in look, and especially a charismatic, star-making portrayal by Crash's Terrance Howard--even if his character's dialectic and colloquialisms sometimes call for a few Ken Loach-like subtitles! Since one of the movie's themes deals with the need for Black artists to return to their unvarnished roots, it's also a real pleasure to see the superb comic character actor Anthony Anderson, who has of late been squandering his talents in such ephemera as King's Ransom and Kangaroo Jack, back in form as a middle-class associate of D-Jay's who becomes his unlikely supporter and co-producer.

The most controversial aspect of Hustle & Flow is not that writer-director Craig Brewer makes his central character a pimp, but that he de-emphasizes and downplays D-Jay's behavior toward his women (he's occasionally abusive, but ONLY occasionally, and this is just briefly touched on) in order to perhaps necessarily make him more easily identifiable and sympathetic as a working stiff trying to reach his potential.

In fact, his relationship with his women was much more reminiscent to me of how Henry Winkler and Michael Keaton treated theirs in Night Shift than how Morgan Freeman treated his in Street Smart or even how Max Julien did in The Mack.

This will no doubt placate some viewers and disgust others, who will understandably label the film a romanticized whitewashing of a despicable profession. I can't honestly argue with the latter view, but can only defend my enjoyment of Brewer's film the same way I could Rob Zombie's very funny countrified Manson family in this summer's earlier Devil's Rejects: here's another case where style trumps unsavory substance.

And anyway, in writing and rapping about "the life", D-Jay is simply following the first rule of songwriting, followed by everybody from Woody Guthrie to Willie Nelson: Write What You Know. Having said that, I have to admit that I regret NOT getting to watch Anderson's social-climber wife (Elise Neal, who's hilarious and later quite touching) perform a crunk song based on her monologue about the tribulations of being a supervisor in a fashion store.