Even more than its thematic cousin, Curtis Hanson's 8 Mile, Hustle & Flow harnesses the grungy essence of grass-roots hip-hop -- the kind produced in basements and garages -- and filters it through one of 2005's most intense performances. From his throwback 1970s title card onward, writer/director Craig Brewer has produced a blisteringly hip breakthrough, one that's as capable with iconic images as it is with penetrating a deeply complex antihero. Playing that central figure is Terrence Howard as Djay, a revelation of simmering menace, whose desire to escape his daily pimp-and-ho grind is a physical force. As coldly efficient as his methods are, this is clearly a man with a conscience, a stern yet secretly caring father figure to the stable of prostitutes who live in his Memphis bungalow. The poetics of his street philosophies -- unobtrusive soliloquies in Brewer's dialogue -- naturally dovetail into the necessary rhythms and life experiences for rap. As he gathers a motley group of collaborators, the music takes shape with a booming and vibrating gristle that is absolutely invigorating. Inspired by the overnight fame of another local street figure, Djay channels his gifts of persuasion into everything from acquiring sound equipment to quieting the neighbors during recording. The supporting performances add whatever Brewer and Howard cannot. DJ Qualls excels as a talented white mixing geek whose street posturing actually ends up seeming cool. Anthony Anderson clearly relishes a well-deserved respite from contemporary blaxploitation comedies, yet still joins with Qualls to contribute the film's significant doses of humor. Even rapper Ludacris is good as Skinny Black. But sharing the soul of this film with Howard are women: Taryn Manning's Nola, whose braided-blond tough girl just wants a little validation, and Taraji Henson's Shug, who finds her own fragile relevance through the music. The rare MTV Films release that actually uses songs as enthralling and indispensable ingredients, Hustle & Flow is an unqualified shot of cinematic adrenaline, that studio's best film since Election.