Despite a third-act tendency to gather a few spare genre clichés as it rolls along (Guns! Drugs! Angry siblings!), Robinson's film is a cut above the rest.

Robinson has assembled an impressive young cast comprised primarily of rappers (such as Tip Harris, a.k.a. T.I.) and fresh faces (newcomer Lauren London).

Fresh and unexpected. It feels like a real window on the lives of disenfranchised youths - these are in South Atlanta - as they make their way in a society that doesn't cut them any breaks.

The film mostly avoids easy laughs or simplistic characters, reminding you how few black movies claim the huge middle ground between chardonnay-sipping buppies and hardened criminals.

The story is familiar, but terrific performances and a vivid sense of place elevate it above the average teen-oriented picture.

What I liked most was its unforced, genuine affection for its characters.

An emotionally charged coming-of-age saga that will make you laugh and cry, maybe at the same time.

Buoyed by a superlative soundtrack, ATL plays a familiar song about growing up, but hits notes that sound brand new.

It's entertainment with ambition, but I can't front though; the soundtrack is pretty fly too.

Notwithstanding the melodrama and the often ham-handed directing, ATL somehow works. A large part of this is thanks to Robinson's skill in evoking the hickory-smoked flavor of the ATL.

The more rink time, the better: As directed by hip-hop music-video king Chris Robinson from a story by "Antwone Fisher's" Antwone Fisher, the skate scenes are a blast.

Unlike so many movies directed at teens, ATL is not interested in exploiting its audience.

Robinson makes these characters breathe, and they bring the film to life.

Working from a story by Antwone Fisher, screenwriter Tina Gordon Chism is tender toward characters balancing where they come from with where they'd like to go. Fisher was the subject of an inspirational biography by Denzel Washington.