8 Miles to Redemption

Why does someone who seems to care so little have so much to say?

Give Eminem a second and you just might see.

Director Curtis Hanson (L.A. Confidential, Wonder Boys) gambled. Go figure--the performer autobiography genre was most recently highlighted by Mariah Carey's Glitter. But forget Glitter. Mariah's story, unlike Eminem's, was devoid of the slightest social import.

8 Mile, a semi-autobiographical tale of Eminem's upbringing, has Hanson doing what he does best--showing us the workings of a torn, conflicted character. This time he gives us something real--so real that you sometimes feel the panicked breaths, the moans of a frighteningly realistic sex-scene and the fear of the rising sun. The freestyle rapping satisfies with powerful reverberating agony. A world of poverty so real it prints like fantasy. Put yourself in his shoes. What would it feel like to have nothing but a garbage bag full of clothes?

Mariah Carey might have been a performer playing herself, but she's an idiot.

Eminem may be a performer, but he's no idiot. In fact, he's rather intelligent. So intelligent that compared to his musical persona, in 8 Mile, he's practically a saint. This saint--Jimmy Smith, Jr (aka Bunny Rabbit)--is impervious to the world of drugs and alcohol that are brandished by those around him. His drunkard mother is his bane, and the enemy posse hoards 40s in a Navigator. He works hard at dead-end jobs--trying to leave his depression at home. This boy scout even defends a gay co-worker from the wrath of homophobia. Eminem is a good kid--damnit! YOU DON'T KNOW HIM!!

How can this film portray "his life" so differently than he does on vinyl? Actually, no one really knows Eminem. Forget the rookie acting blunders, the extremes of his character breathe life into this film--they create the pain and hopelessness of his world. His depression overbears, his anger looms, as his "saintliness" paints a picture of an alien. Lost amongst hopelessness and gifted with a historically black man's talent in a white man's world--this white boy is mocked on both sides. He covers himself with a stocking cap--his sunken eyes speak of unshed tears. He's worthless white trash at work and a posing white fool in the black hip-hop world.

He lacks all human dignity.

This is the story of the eight mile road that separates the white trailer parks from the projects, the worlds of Black and White American poverty. This is the story of a racist system--one that helps no one.

Jimmy Smith is no Horatio Alger: Unlike Horatio, he plays the game and gets nowhere.

Although Eminem himself has thrived in that game, he still somehow manages to portray Smith with incredible sincerity, and 8 Mile has consequently become the fall's most pleasant surprise.

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