We live in a world where White Chicks, for whatever unholy reason, had to be made. Would it have been too much to ask for it to have been a mediocre, 75-minute piffle rather than 105 minutes of torture padded with overwrought messaging, dance-offs and yo-mama jokes?
Were it not for Broken Lizard’s Club Dread, White Chicks easily would lay claim to the title of worst comedy — make that any movie — of this year. All it proves is that, contrary to popular belief, comedic talent in the Wayans family does not lessen as you go down the sibling chain. It stinks at the top, too, given eldest brother Keenen Ivory Wayans directed and co-wrote this mess.
Shawn and Marlon Wayans star as Kevin and Marcus Copeland, two FBI agents whose powers of observation are as shabby as the Puerto Rican disguises they use in a prologue drug bust gone bad. Their punishment is to play chauffeur to the Wilson sisters, a pair of preening WASPs who are the target of an apparent kidnapping plot.
The FBI will run surveillance on the sisters in hopes of snaring the kidnapper while the snotty socialites party it up in the Hamptons over Labor Day weekend. When a car accident leaves them with cuts on their lips and nose, there’s no way they can go away for the weekend. Thus, to save their hides, Kevin and Marcus become white women in unconvincing latex get-ups to trap the bad guys.
Firstly, Shawn and Marlon look like Dave Chappelle when he impersonates a white man on Chappelle’s Show. Even with jokes of collagen shots for their lips, there’s no way they’d pass for the real thing.
And just where do those real Wilson sisters go? None of the six co-writers thought to explain that away, until they show up later at the plot’s convenience. While we’re talking numbers, famous people tend to die in clusters of three, and so do this film’s jokes — repeated that many times to a similarly unfunny effect. Rose ceremonies on The Bachelor have greater romantic chemistry than either of the two subplots here. And a 12-year-old kid could unravel the kidnapping “mystery.”
To be fair, there are a couple good chuckles, and they both come at the expense of Vanessa Carlton’s “A Thousand Miles.” The spoiled joke in the trailer is actually funny now, given a switch of songs. And the only true energetic laugh comes when the song is sung by Terry Crews, a former Philadelphia Eagles linebacker who inexplicably plays a basketball forward in the film.
Crews’ Latrell is a Lothario who falls for Marcus in drag, and his come-hither idiocy is the only really good thing until the finale, when he lets loose a hateful racial epithet that’s out of character. Hey, somebody’s got to have fun in this movie, and it’s certainly not going to be the audience.