Some bad movies are an adventure. Others are merely boring. Keenen Ivory Wayans' White Chicks is neither of these. This "film" about two inept African-American cops who go undercover impersonating young white socialites in the Hamptons is an endurance test. In a sense it's almost admirable in how there isn't a single moment of this "film" that isn't either painfully unfunny and/or physically nauseating. And you know what the kicker is? The thing that perhaps bothered me the most about White Chicks wasn't its unfunny humor, its racially prejudiced depictions of both whites and blacks, and its gross sexism. No, it was the fact that the "film" actually believed that the white woman prosthetics plastered onto the main actors were convincing. Of course, there are a few obligatory scenes where friends of the impersonated socialites gape at the officers and try to figure out what's "different" about them. But their inevitable conclusions are always something stupid like a new hairdo. Within the world of White Chicks those prosthetics are perfect disguises. And let me tell you...they are among the most revoltingly hideous pieces of makeup that I have ever encountered in any "film." And yet, again, this "film" expects us to buy into their perfection. Why? Because White Chicks is an idiotic film made by idiotic people featuring idiotic characters made for idiotic audiences. And, no, I'm not saying that only idiots can enjoy White Chicks. But what I am saying is that White Chicks was made by deliberately aiming at the lowest common denominator because it doesn't expect anything more from its audience. Screw you. I won't be insulted like this.
1/10
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