With
its top-heavy cast of comedians such as Queen Latifah, Sherri
Shepherd and Golden Brooks, it’s no surprise that
“Beauty Shop” unfolds with bowls of laughter.
What will delight moviegoers even more, however, is that
in addition to fun, the movie displays heart, charm and
good motivations.
Director
Bille Woodruff builds on the theme of a good time in the
hood from previous films, “Barbershop” and “Barbershop
2,” which starred Queen Latifah. In “Beauty
Shop,” Latifah not only has a producing credit, but
again plays stylist Gina Norris.
Gina
has left Chicago to start a new life in Atlanta where her
daughter Vanessa (Paige Hurd) will attend a prestigious
music school. Gina lands a job in a posh salon owned by
Jorge, played flamboyantly by Kevin Bacon. When Jorge gets
a little too demanding of his girls, Gina in particular,
she quits. “Gina can go toe-to-toe with the best of
them and take a punch – but she can give one, too,”
explained Latifah about her character. “That’s
what motivates her to keep moving.”
Although
Gina is upset because she won’t be able to afford
Vanessa’s school, friends finally convince her she
should open her own salon. Following their advice, she buys
a rundown shop and spruces it up with the help of friends
and Joe (Djimon Hounsou), the good-looking electrician who
lives upstairs and just happens to play the piano. Hounsou,
a quiet soul whose characters exhibited super strength in
“Gladiator” and “Amistad, “ won
an Oscar nomination for his role in last year’s “In
America.” It’s nice to see him stretch his talents
as Gina’s love interest, a sincere and humble man.
“Beauty
Shop” taps into a wonderful camaraderie of women.
The white women like Lynn (Alicia Silverstone), a shampoo
girl who leaves Jorge’s to work for Gina, and Terri
(Andie MacDowell) and Joanne (Mena Suvari), two former customers
of Jorge’s, get along completely with the shop girls
from the hood, Chanel (Golden Brooks) and Ida (Sherri Shepherd).
Silverstone
is absolutely perfect as the county bumpkin trying to fit
in with a bunch of hood girls, and the more she tries, the
harder they laugh. Silverstone said, “She was like,
‘This sucks. They don’t like me, but they don’t
know me.’ I like that as they get to know her, they
like her better.”
MacDowell
is equally amusing as a patron who follows Gina because
she’s the only one who can tame her hair. A little
intimidated to visit the shop at first, Terri is soon right
at home with the girls and picks up some good tips from
them about her constantly absent husband. For one hysterical
scene about a vendor who sells monkey bread, MacDowell brought
her own take on it to the film. “I’m from the
South, and I grew up eating soul food,” she said.
“I love greens. Actually, the “butt thing”
was my idea. Sometimes it’s the little things…
I had a small part so it was great that they liked my idea.”
Suvari
nails the superficial Joanne, an uppity suburban woman who
likes the way Gina cuts her hair and tries to fit in with
the shoptalk, but just doesn’t get it. Things escalate
between her and Lynn, because Joanne has her eyes on Lynn’s
man and fellow salon stylist James (Bryce Wilson.)
When
Gina adds her own changes to the shop, she meets with some
resistance from the girls, but behind her all the way is
Miss Josephine (Alfre Woodard), a feminist who spouts Maya
Angelou poetry and believes in women going after their dreams.
The
wonderful cast also includes Keshia Knight Pulliam as Gina’s
devilish sister-in-law as well as Lil’ JJ, who is
topnotch as Willie, a young kid enamored by the women in
the shop.
“Beauty
Shop” has it all -- great performances, an empowering
story and tons of laughs.
While
this Barbershop spin-off is rather clunky and unfunny, its
cast has enough personality to make it surprisingly entertaining.
If you can overlook some slightly offensive stereotyping
and stick out an overlong running time.
After
her husband's death, Gina (Latifah) moves to Atlanta with
her daughter (Hurd) and gets a job with shi-shi stylist
Jorge (Bacon), who treats everyone like scum. Eventually,
there's an ego explosion and Gina's out on her own, buying
a run-down beauty shop and building a loyal staff (black-wannabe
Silverstone, earth-mother Woodward, hunky Wilson, spiky
Brooks, party girl Pulliam) and customer base (MacDowell,
Suvari, Reese). But her troubles with Jorge aren't quite
over yet.
There
are the bare bones of a strong comedy here, but the film
feels like it was run through the Hollywood strainer, adding
contrived plot points, cliched characters and a brightly
professional sheen. At least the cast inject enough raw
talent and charm to keep us watching. Latifah is relaxed
and sparky, leading her lively ensemble effortlessly, while
Hounsou and Wilson fill the sexy-but-talented male roles
and Silverstone is the dumb white girl with a heart of gold.
Everyone else is good too, but they're mostly just confirming
every black stereotype imaginable, most glaringly Woodward's
over-the-top motherland obsession (let's quote Maya Angelou
again!). Amid all this goofiness, Bacon steals the film
with his sourpuss Eurotrash routine. He's the only funny
thing in the film--possibly because he's the only person
who never smiles.
Basically,
the film consists of a lot of beautician chatter and Jerry
Springer attitude, offering bad advice for everyone else's
problems. It's sassy and silly and corny, but rarely funny.
And as it drags on we keep waiting for the other shoe to
drop. Woodruff (Honey) directs the film like he has ADD--lurching
from blues to rap, innercity grit to sappy romance, leaving
story threads dangling everywhere while padding it out through
unnecessary sequences that only delay the inevitable moment
when the plot kicks in. It's not an awful film, but it could
have been much better than this if the filmmakers had held
onto its soul.