The slight transformation of a mere gangsta into a gangsta rapper. Notwithstanding the biographical parallels to the life of its star, Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson (the internecine drug wars, the prison stint, the nine bullet wounds, etc.), it is lethally banal. "50 Cent," a two-bit actor, supplies an unarticulated, uninflected, unfelt narration, and his on-screen demeanor mirrors the guarded, the standoffish, the self-conscious public persona of a Mike Tyson, unconducive to intimacy. Irish-born director Jim Sheridan (My Left Foot, In the Name of the Father, The Boxer, and others) would seem, ahead of time, to lend the project what we might call "art cred," but outside of the robust photography of Declan Quinn and a near-death montage in the more mystical vein of In America, the cred doesn't survive inspection. With Terrence Howard, Joy Bryant, and Bill Duke. (2005) — Duncan Shepherd
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