THIS semi-biographical film recounting the rise of Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson will undoubtedly throw up all the usual questions about whether US rap music glamorises drug-related gang warfare.
And while I am not ignoring this valid, if exhausted debate, I left the cinema asking another burgeoning question about the life and times of 50 Cent- and that is does anyone really care?
Maybe 50 felt it necessary to prove his credentials as a legitimate gangsta rapper. Tough childhood, check. Gun-toting drug dealer, check. Time spent in the clink, check.
OK, so he's proved he's the real deal, but haven't we seen this story - whether fact or fictional - too many times before?
That said, while there are few surprises this film remains watchable. Jackson doesn't feel the need to over-act, which is often a risk when playing oneself.
Maybe he should have given his old mate Marshall Mathers a few tips before he hammed it up in 8 Mile. Instead Jackson remains comfortable as the muscle-bound charisma-less thug who made it big, but is certainly no superstar.
And while the plot might be familiar and there is a pungent whiff of cheese so seemingly unavoidable in these US rags to riches tales, it's a Saturday afternoon no-brainer and you need less brain cells than 50 to enjoy it.
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