Idlewild is the tale of Rooster and Percival, two young boys from opposing sides of the tracks who grow up in a fictional, gangster-ridden Georgia town. Percival’s father is a mortician, and the dutiful, motherless son grows into his father’s intimidating footsteps — becomes a reserved, respectable contributor to civilized society. Rooster’s father, on the other hand, dies prematurely, and the fast-talking, budding entertainer is raised under the influence of Spats, a gangster who runs Idlewild. Rooster is the rowdy one, the one who refuses to be tamed. He marries, and fathers a passel of children, but can’t settle down. The wildness of Prohibition-era speakeasies and the burgeoning jazz scene suit him to a tee and turn him into a minor celebrity.

But Rooster and Percival don’t grow entirely apart. Though they travel in different circles, two things make sure those circles constantly intersect: funerals, and the Church. Mind you, the Church is a nightclub, the place where Rooster feels most at home. He finds a place for Percival’s musical talents at the keys of the club’s resident piano.

So there’s the setup. Old chums from the opposite sides of the tracks. Nightclubs. Prohibition. Gangsters.

Where’s it going? Well, I’m not so sure that’s the most interesting aspect of the picture. Part of the fascination of Idlewild, as I understand it, is that the movie features the talents of Outkast, one of the hottest hiphop acts of the last decade. Big Boi plays the Prohib proto-rapper Rooster, while André 3000 portrays the more artsy Percival. And according to music industry insiders, the story of Percival and Rooster mirrors much of the story of André 3000 and Big Boi — musicians once inseperable but now drifting into different circles of influence, intersecting only to loosely collaborate during musical projects such as albums (and now films). 

Like a seedy, trashy (or earthy) version of one of Jesus’ parables, Idlewild documents how the friends become survivors, discover their own true identities apart from each other, find their circles intersecting less and less, and establish wildly succesful independent careers. It’s like watching a pair of quarrelsome quibblers work out their differences in some artsy-fartsy (and cathartically pseudo-violent) therapy session.

But along the way, Rooster’s tale, at least, makes a strong (if not convincing) case that Providence is watching over these boys — that God has got some stake in making sure that Rooster and Percival don’t entirely self-destruct. Idlewild uses God’s Word as a literal shield, a deus ex machina that offers Rooster a chance for redemption and Percival a ticket to the Big City where his talents can flourish — so both escape the corruption of the Church.

Alas, this morality play will likely come off as a retread for those of us who’ve seen more than a handful of movies. And to those for whom such storylines still have the power to be fresh and original, the odd mix of musical styles (not to mention the flat acting of Big Boi and André 3000) will likely be too disorienting to enjoy much. Certainly, the test audience with whom I saw the picture was not enthralled, oddly eager to ignore the musical number behind the end credits and beat their way to the exits. At the end of the day, Idlewild is far more idle than wild.