(out of four)
By David N. Butterworth
8 Mile is a highway in Detroit, a dividing line that,
ostensibly, separates the haves from the have-nots, the inner city from the
outer 'burbs, the blacks from the whites.
Jimmy Smith Jr.
(hip-hop artist Eminem, making his big screen debut in the appropriately named 8
Mile) is a have-not, an angry white rapper who dreams of cutting a hit demo
and crossing those tracks to Respectville. It’s not exactly Flashdance
or Rocky III but it’s got a surprisingly softer-than-nails feel to it
all.
In fact, Curtis (L.A. Confidential) Hanson’s latest
drama can best be described as “genteel”–for all the angry black
hip-hop artists rappin’ and rumblin’ in parking lots, this
semi-autobiographical tale relegates sex and drugs and nastiness to second place
and focuses instead on Jimmy (aka B-Rabbit) and his rise from steel plant
presser to serious challenger to champion hip-hopper Papa Doc’s throne in
the Battle of the Shelter. Not since the Bad News Bears came from behind to win
the state pennant (or maybe it was Air Bud?) have we seen a finale as formulaic
as this one, but clichés and predictability get much airplay in 8 Mile.
There
is, however, that odd, underlying sweetness to contend with. The film looks good
(shot in grimy blue-and-white) and sounds good (wall-to-wall street language
does double time with original music by the artist currently known as Eminem).
Most
importantly, it’s got Eminem’s compelling, assured, workaholic performance
in the lead. He’s great, certainly having what it takes to lift the film above
its standard fare convictions, whether it be in confrontations with his white
trash trailer park living mother (Kim Basinger) or on stage, where the performer’s
brash, lyrical rhymes smash and grab the audience proper.
