Eminem, love, hate or ignore him, is one of the very few genuine modern-day stars whose pure force of personality demands a movie all to itself. Hence the involvement here of much-respected director Curtis Hanson (LA Confidential, The Wonder Boys). Though imperfect, 8 Mile – a loose biopic of the biggest white rap phenomenon since Vanilla Ice – is as compelling and curiously likeable as its strangely juvenile subject, with a generous feelgood factor going some way to make up for the film’s slightly Hollywood depiction of urban Detroit.

As natural an actor as you’d expect, given his generally attention-crazed disposition, Mathers looks supremely comfortable playing aspirant white rapper Jimmy, a loser living at home in a trailer with his hard-up mom (Kim Basinger) on the poor and mainly black side of town. In spite of his runtish physique and unfortunate skin pigmentation, Jimmy soon gains the respect of the entire ’hood thanks to his flair for out-dissing all competitors in the on-the-spot rapping ‘battles’ which serve as the chief local pastime.

That said, those on a scuzz-cruise for some serious ghetto action are advised to look elsewhere for thrills: despite the appropriately bleak camerawork, there’s next to no sense of engulfing menace or cut-throat desperation about the shithole neighbourhood in which 8 Mile is staged. Shootings, death threats and beatings take place without ever threatenng to impinge on the pervasive ‘yo, bro!’ atmosphere of convivial youthful exuberance, and for all the Uzi-totin’ posturing of the protagonists, 8 Mile is as clearly a teen-targeted feelgood musical as Saturday Night Fever was three decades ago: that is, it’s a film devoted to a hugely commercially successful musical phenomenon, aimed squarely at the kids who made it that way.

A pop cash-in, then, but the peroxide brat himself brings none of the vacuity and cynicism often common to in multi-tasking pop phenomena who daytrip to the silver screen and his company on its own makes 8 Mile worthwhile.