In the middle of it all, this is a basketball film about a singular relationship — one that likely happens all the time across sports, but which we rarely experience as filmgoers. Not since Rocky and Mick has a mentor/mentee relationship been so effectively captured on film; Sugerman dedicates his entire life to this kid, serving as an instructor, psychiatrist, life coach, and friend, teaching him how to shoot hoops, tossing relentless insults at him to thicken his skin, and in one great scene, knowing when it's time to shut up and let Bo figure it out for himself.
Hernangomez, meanwhile, is a not-always gentle giant who builds a real character here. His acting is every bit as impressive as his skills on the court, which are formidable. When he offers up a rare smile, it gives the viewer the sort of hope that keeps Stanley going; when he cries, it will break your heart. This film is clearly based on countless real-life scouts and agents who shepherd sports stars onto the world's biggest stage, then back away with little to no recognition. It's easy to look at athletes and just see statistics; without people like Stanley Sugerman, countless legends would never have made it to the screen in your local sports bar.
Like "Jerry Maguire," "Blue Chips" or "Any Given Sunday," the film gets its bona fides by suffusing every frame with real-life athletes, broadcasters, and other talents from the game, past and present. Some (Dr. J, Doc Rivers, Dirk Nowitzki) play themselves, while others (Kenny Smith, Boban Marjanovic) play fictional characters. Aside from Hernangomez, the best of these is Anthony Edwards as Kermit, an imminent top draft pick and the film's de facto Apollo Creed. After all, this is a Philly story.
The film excels in capturing the flavor of the city, at a time when so many films are content to drop a name and shoot in Vancouver. In an era when so many films want to bring audiences the young, the hip, a viral taste of what's happening on the streets (and then shoot it in front of a green screen), "Hustle" effectively puts you on the sidelines of a pick-up game, surrounded by players trash-talking and taking each others' cash. Rather than the too-often obligatory scene where a teenage kid teaches an older person how to harness the power of YouTube and TikTok when Sugerman's daughter cuts together a video (hashtag #BoaChallenge, one of many nicknames Stanley endearingly attempts to give Bo), you believe that yeah, this kid would be a sensation.
