Starring T.I., Big Boi, and Lauren London. Rated PG. Now playing at the Cinemark Tinseltown

ATL, named after the industry designation of Atlanta's main airport, posits a world in which few of the denizens will be getting on airplanes anytime soon. A kind of American Graffiti for inner-city kids, it follows four unlikely pals as they wrap up their high-school lives and make tentative, sometimes treacherous, steps toward adulthood.

The story roughly centres on Rashad (rapper T.I. in a solid, if not always forthcoming, performance) and his younger brother, called Ant (Evan Ross Naess). Since their parents died in a car crash, the siblings live with their Uncle George (Mykelti Williamson), who pushes a broom for a living and doesn't appear to care much about anyone, including himself.

Rashad's best buds, in good comic fashion, are a motormouth Georgian (Jason Weaver), a pudgy, good-natured New Yorker (Albert Daniels), and the upwardly mobile Esquire (Jackie Long), who moonlights at the country club, getting a foothold in mostly white society. The foursome meets Sunday nights at a rundown roller rink where similar types compete with each other for props and the sometimes annoying attentions of the opposite sex.

Eventually, after a lot of bluster, Rashad falls for slinky New-New (impressive newcomer Lauren London), who comes over all ghetto but has some surprising secrets. Sadly, he's increasingly distracted by his brother's troubles with a tough drug dealer, Marcus, noisily played by OutKast's Big Boi.

Leaning heavily on music talent from the Atlanta scene, the tale is based on a story by Antwone Fisher (who previously got a whole movie named after him) and boasts a smart script by Drumline writer Tina Gordon Chism. First-time feature director Chris Robinson, like Take the Lead's Liz Friedlander, comes from a music-video background, although his sense of rhythm sometimes veers off.

The roller-rink scenes add needed colour and provide opportunities for soundtrack pump-ups, both new and retro. But they also slow down the two-hour story, and a steady buildup to the clichéd Big Competition goes nowhere. Also, it's unlikely that a cartoonist of Rashad's talent-he is occasionally seen scribbling caricatures that are way above the Boondocks level-would be totally unrecognized. Still, Robinson has a good feel for his actors, and he invests memorable effort in portraying the strangely equivalent nothingness of both drug trafficking and janitorial work.

In the end, ATL seems to say, talent and friendship are more important than getting paid. And that message flies in any neighbourhood.