directed by Malcolm D. Lee
written by Robert Ramsey and Matthew Stone
starring Samuel L. Jackson, Bernie Mac, Sharon Leal, Sean Hayes, Adam Herschman, Isaac Hayes, Affion Crockett, Fasto-Fasano, Jackie Long, Mike Epps, John Legend
Two billygoat scruffers who used to be the Real Deal fight and scratch their way to a big tribute concert honoring their former frontman who went on to electrify audiences long after the elastic-challenged duo hung up their polyester suits and retired into oblivion.
Louis Hinds (Jackson) and Floyd Henderson (Mac) were once on top of the world as part of a terrifically successful soul group who generated a tremendous amount of heat back in the day. Many moons later they are out of the business and shuffling through life doing just enough to get by. Louis is a mechanic and Floyd has been forced out of his lucrative car business by his nephew and now lives on a fixed income. They profess to hate each other as the film opens but are resigned to hook up because of the concert at the Apollo Theater in New York where they have been asked to perform. The rest of the film is devoted to their wacky road trip and not even the scintillating chemistry between Jackson and Mac can rescue this from being a wholly pedestrian buddy movie that seems unwilling to skirt all the cliches.
Most of the action takes place between Floyd and Louis. They fight and scratch at each other as only two men who truly love each other can. Their bitter disputes, haranguing, and low shots beneath the belt are really the only thing worth paying attention to here. The Apollo can not come quickly enough and there just isn’t enough of a plot to maintain one’s interest beyond what occurs between the two leads. Still, it’s a real joy to watch these two go at it and they clearly seem to be having a blast making the film. There is a hint of sadness here due to the untimely passings of both Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes. The jubilant, attack dog method of Mac works well as a counter to the more laid back approach of Jackson as both actors get full mileage out of the material they have been given. Unfortunately that material does not add up to a compelling film that is remotely watchable all the way through.
One of the failings of this film is in its overblown ciphers who chew up scenery but don’t add anything to the film. Affion Crockett’s character Lester is supposed to be a critique of a hood rat with the ubiquitous pretensions of making it as a rapper. Instead, he is just an ugly, ugly stereotype possessing no charm, no style, and no rapping talent whatsoever. Granted, he’s supposed to represent the bastardization of classic soul music that Louis just cannot comprehend. Their clash is perhaps one of the only real moments where the audience is allowed to feel something remotely passing as an emotion and in this case it’s disgust. One sides with Louis because he represents a lasting tradition that will continue long after all of us have passed on. He’s old school in a way that possesses legitimacy and his clash with Lester is an assault on all those who show no love or respect for their heritage and bring nothing to the table in terms of real skills that true masters of the craft possess in spades. It isn’t a critique of rappers per se only those who can no longer hear the music and let their oversized egos get in the way of getting things done. It’s apparent here that Lester has no clue how to use a sample in a way that both elevates it and brings out its mystery as well. He’s just a punk who deserves the whooping Louis puts on him over the course of the film.
The film does move alone rather briskly and there aren’t many moments where it seems to drag along but nothing truly magical or intriguing seems to be happening and the end result is a film that doesn’t seem to know where it needs to go. It’s a case where two truly interesting characters are left out to dry and nothing they do possesses any meaning whatsoever. It’s a crying shame too because these are two men who work so well together and their chemistry is apparent from the very beginning. They could have soared with a proper script but instead we are given a bumbling buddy road movie where each stop only prolongs the misery until the big day finally arrives and none too soon.
There is one bright spot along the way in the form of a girl named Cleo who secretly writes and sings songs in her bathrobe that send chills down the spine. She is the daughter of the mysterious Odetta who both Louis and Floyd have had relationships with. Indeed, she broke both of their hearts and Louis remains devoted to her in some perverse way. So, she dies and Louis and Floyd decide to pay her a visit because they are broke. Instead they meet Cleo who they convince to head out on the road with them. There’s a major secret revealed here that is only half heartedly played out but it is obviously supposed to be imbued with meaning. Regardless, they hit the road and nothing much of note happens. There are minor disturbances, grief soaked moments, confessions and such but none of it amounts to anything. Again, they simply lead up to the big show where there are naturally complications and it looks like our men will not be able to perform. Of course they do and of course it isn’t very good because neither Jackson or Mac possess that wow factor that make all seminal stage performers so breathtakingly perfect from the moment they hit the stage. Still, it’s a joy to watch them light it up and get their due which is what this film seems to be about if it is about anything at all.
Granted the funkdafied old boys groove alright with the right clothes and the hard, carnal posturing. They look like warriors in those duds, supremely gifted to charm the panties out of every little lady within spitting distance and beyond. When the film isn’t suffering the foibles of ill-begotten scene killers it has its moments of goofy fun. There is a logic here and it has everything to do with what our heroes are attempting to do to each other in order to bring the other one down. Otherwise, it’s a lost cause with too many moments that might have turned into something thrilling and divine.
The performances in this film all do a fine job with the material which unfortunately strands them far too often. Samuel L. Jackson is in his best feisty form and it’s still amazing how threatening he is despite remaining so bloody cool under the collar. He’s a legitimate force of nature who is infinitely watchable no matter the level of the script he is working with. It’s always a pleasure to watch him do almost anything on screen and he’s one of the view talents you can say that about. Bernie Mac in his final film stands up hard to Mr. Jackson and gives as good as he gets. His gift for comedy is clearly immense and he’s quite good at reacting to whatever forced mayhem is taking place around him. His death is a great loss as he is truly gifted at putting on a pretty good show. Sharon Leal nearly steals the show with that voice and sly, come-on hips. She’s high wattage all the way and it will be interesting to see what Hollywood does with her. They don’t come too often with this sort of down-home charm and obvious grace. She’s definitely one to keep the eyes glued on.
Overall, this is a film that just isn’t impressive enough to be memorable. It certainly presents two fantastic talents and lets them make their best effort to keep the crowds entertained for the duration of the picture. Unfortunately, it’s not funny enough, it bogs down at the end, and its far too formulaic for its own good. It just isn’t special in any way and the great closedown at the end doesn’t come off as the great showstopper it means to be. We know the ending and the journey getting there lacks any legitimate thrills. There’s some feeble attempts at physical comedy but they all fall flat. Ultimately, the film wastes several great talents due to a poorly conceived script that gives the actors nothing to work with.
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