White Chicks

Bomb Rating: 

This film was probably half over before I figured out that the Wayans family was serious in wanting me to believe that the characters were actually accepting Kevin Copeland (Shawn Wayans) and Marcus Copeland (Marlon Wayans) as white chicks. I mean, it's one thing if they're just pretending to be two white chicks that nobody has ever met, but to suggest that people who'd actually met the Wilson sisters would be fooled by two FBI agents impersonating them is about as ludicrous as launching a cannonball into my groin and calling it an expression of true love.

It would be one thing if director Keenan Ivory Wayans were commenting on rich, white peoples' superficiality and their complete obliviousness to other people or something like that, but this movie isn't that deep. People just seem to accept that undercover FBI agents Kevin and Marcus are the sisters, even though they've suddenly transformed from hot, obnoxious white women to a couple of Sleestack refugees from "Land of the Lost."

You know that when a movie turns into "You Got Served" and that can actually be spun as a positive, it's a film with serious problems. Posing as white chicks in the Hamptons, it's more certain than flies around Courtney Love that they'll be doing something "black" to win the favor of their new friends. Ultimately, this boils down to break dancing. The two are in the Hamptons because they suspect someone is going to attempt to kidnap the girls and they want to thwart the attempt.

The incredibly well thought-out plot point to make this all possible is Kevin and Marcus leaving the real Wilson sisters in a hotel room and telling them not to move. The whole movie is about that swift. Almost none of it was funny. Personally, I found the Sleestacks to be really god damn scary when I was a kid and watching the Wayans in that ridiculous-looking makeup brought back some really disturbing memories. It just wasn't funny. This was one of those rare situations where I wished that instead of wasting all that pointless make-up, the filmmakers had done something completely stupid like CGI-ed their heads.

There's also the predictable male suitor for Marcus in the form of Latrell Spencer (Terry Crews) and the inevitable knocks at the door leading to miraculous clothing and make-up changes.

The really sad thing here, as with so many films, is that there's something potentially funny about the idea. Sadly, the writing is entirely an afterthought. The script seems to have been written on the fly between takes. Ironically, only those as shallow as the fictional Wilson sisters will find anything to appreciate in this sad film.

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