Terrence Howard is a born movie star. You already know that if you've seen 'Mr. Holland's Opus,' 'The Best Man,' 'Hart's War,' 'Boycott,' 'Glitter,' 'Lackawanna Blues' and 'Crash' because he stole the spotlight in each one. As a small-time Memphis con man named Djay in 'Hustle & Flow,' Howard brings out the appealing and sympathetic side of a young hustler. Djay shares a house in a run-down ghetto community with three women: The pregnant Shug (Taraji P. Henson), the stripper Lexus (Paula J. Parker) and the white girl with long, blonde braids, Nola (Taryn Manning). Although they sell sex on occasion, the relationships (full of crying infants and home-cooked meals) are more like an unconventional family household than the typical pimp and prostitute collaboration.

Because of Howard's quiet voice and the yearning look in his eyes, it is easy to see how these women are caught under the spell of their baby-daddy and boyfriend. They stick by him and work for him. Djay explains his dream of controlling his own destiny -- and beating the system that stresses them -- when he begins the film with a riveting speech to Nola. They're both sitting in the front seat of his clanking, cheaply repaired car with a mismatched-colored hood. (But notice that the wheels are outfitted with spinners, a sign of Djay's low-down ambition.)

In this opening scene, Howard overturns all the media clichés about pimps. He's not a fashionably dressed Mack Daddy like in a Snoop Dogg music video; he's not physically threatening; in fact, he's down on his luck. He's nearly pitiable yet is also undeniably charismatic. Djay's ability to talk Nola out of the misgivings she has about her own life comes from his individual, home-made-pimp's style: In a twangy Southern accent (saying "main" for "man" and "fer" for "fair") he discloses his own street philosophy about the way the world works.

Also giving an award-worthy performance is Anthony Anderson as Key, the church-choir recording engineer whose own domestic troubles with his middle-class wife Yevette (Elise Neal) are brought out when he helps Djay put his raps on tape. Anderson makes Key immediately likable. (He tells Djay "Do you talk the talk or walk the walk? Most niggas talk, but they expect niggas like me to do the walkin' for them!").

'Hustle & Flow' is the most deservedly hyped black movie since 'Boyz N the Hood.' Its plot is simple as a rap record, its characters are as symbolic as anything in the Biggie Smalls or Jay-Z song, yet it gives a new perspective on ghetto life. Lead by Howard's distinct, redbone-seductive manner, the story of how Djay and his women interact and fight their way out of dead-end Memphis comes across without sensationalism. No gun shots -- but a believable moment of Djay making a trade with a neighbor for a moment of silence. None of the characters are vicious or hateful. As written and directed by first-timer, Craig Brewer, the film is sympathetic to the ways that ghetto people survive and get along. Plus, the twist ending is a realistic one.

No doubt these rich characterizations owe something to John Singleton's involvement as the producer of 'Hustle & Flow.' Like Singleton's 'Baby Boy,' this story is set apart by its focus on how a black man deals with women, while searching for his place in a hostile society. Singleton and Brewer understand the situation black men face in a culture that both pampers and misleads them through the usual male-dominated social principles and the conventions of macho, sexist hip-hop. Despite Djay's soft demeanor, he is one of those boys who find it difficult to be men without mistreating women. The movie stirs our feelings when showing how Djay cannot help but be emotionally indebted to these women. After all, he treats them no worse than he treats himself. The lack of self-esteem is difficult for all of them.

What Djay really wants to do is rap -- the showbiz lure that dazzles and entraps today's generation of black males the way basketball did in the '80s. But 'Hustle & Flow' isn't simply a rags-to-riches story. Singleton and Brewer know how appealing that dream can be, but are smart enough to subvert that cliché. Their subversion begins with the figure of the pimp -- a social category that the film stops short of validating but uses as the convenient marker for a man like Djay, a misguided black man with dreams, and problems.

Break It Down: Believe the hype. This movie flows.