Several events help give rise to Djay’s dream: buying a cheap little Casio keyboard off the street; witnessing the national success of local rapper Skinny Black; and running into old school-homie Key, who happens to dabble in sound engineering. A spiritual awakening strikes Djay as he and employee Nola visit Key on the job at his church, recording a performance of a soloist singing, “I told Jesus it would be alright if He changed my name . . .” At the conclusion of the song, Djay’s tears show that he himself is ready for a “name-change.”

Djay and Key set-up a makeshift recording studio at Djay’s house and, aided by a white (!) pianist named Shelby, begin to create their sound and literally give voice to the dream. Djay lays his new songs down on audio cassette tape (they can’t afford CD technology) and plans a rendezvous with Skinny Black in order to hustle him into making Djay a star.

This is a fantastic movie. Director Craig Brewer brilliantly moves his characters beyond the usual caricatured renderings of movie pimps and whores. Brewer’s are truly human – with real minds, real emotions, real dreams. They recognize their lives’ shortcomings and seek to ascend beyond them.

I wish more white people would see this film. Wait – let me explain! Isn’t it true that a film with a mostly- (or all-) black cast attracts a mostly- (or all-!) black movie-going audience? My aim is not to incite a controversy (I’m sorry if you just threw this computer through a window); I am just as guilty as the next American. Given the characters, the content, and especially the soundtrack, we white folk tend to shy away from this type of film.

Hustle includes some wonderful moments that seem to confront this very issue head-on. Two of these memorable scenes take place in the studio: the lay-down of the first track, “Whoop That Trick”, with the whole house – hookers, white piano players, and all – rhyming and dancing together, sensing the energy and truth of the moment; and Shug’s (at first) timid recording of her vocal hook on the film’s Oscar-winning theme song, “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp.” In these scenes, the characters, black and white together, believing in each other and in the dream, are for a moment transported out of their situations into a wonderful new place – a land of creativity, possibility, and hope. Shug later declares that the opportunity to sing on the track “made [her] feel real.”

Djay knows full well that the pursuit of this dream will not be easy. “I’m trying to squeeze a dollar out of a dime, and I ain’t even got a cent, man,” he says in one vulnerable moment. At various points all the major characters express that they have been living in mere maintenance mode, crawling through their existence instead of pursuing that which they feel they were created to do. This is as true for vending machine repairman Shelby and middle-class Key – “I talked such a good game when we was young, man . . . now I’m just payin’ rent,” he says – as it is for Djay and the women. Their visions of What Could Be are given new momentum as they observe and participate in Djay’s hopeful quest for renewal. Nola, who has a winsomeness that belies her vocation, is regarded by Djay (and consequently by us) with such affection, more as a little sister than a sexual figure, which makes us want all the more painfully for her life to amount to something more. We feel similarly about the breathtaking Shug, and are moved by the sense of self-worth she gleans from taking part in the creation of something real and new.

Life is hard to manage, for both pimps and presidents, hookers and healthcare professionals. We tend to approach it a couple of different ways, either assuming that we have control of our life situation, or fearing that it controls us. Pain, sin, broken trust, poverty, and dashed dreams are more than enough to ground us (even when self-inflicted), forcing each of us into our own maintenance mode.

Somehow, Christ calls us above all this. “Yeah, this world is full of pain and sorrow, but you know what, you guys? I have overcome the world. That’s all behind you. That’s what I came to do. Now you will be able to really live life – an incredibly abundant life.” It is a wonderful, beautiful thing to be doing what you feel, what you know, God created you to do. Unfortunately, too many people settle for less than that, for things that keep life merely on a plateau of mediocrity and predictability.

If you’re reading this (which you are), please don’t do that yourself. Now, don’t call the Trite Police on me, but . . . I encourage you to chase your dream. Pursue life. Be who you really are. Create something. Take people with you on that journey. Let loose your life’s passion. Rise above the ordinary.

Live abundantly.