By Robert Scucci
| Published
According to Marlon Wayans, “white chicks love White Chicks,” which is a positive assessment of the film because the target of its humor enjoyed it the most. Since I’m not a white chick, I have mixed feelings because this is one of the dumbest movies I’ve ever seen, but I always try to rate movies on whether they accomplished what they set out to do. Given that I’m not in the film’s primary demographic (I’m also not 12 years old), I had trouble getting through this one, but understand its appeal because it’s a by-the-numbers buddy cop comedy with a Mrs. Doubtfire bent that does everything it can to gross you out with its over-the-top humor.
Through that lens, the Wayans brothers successfully accomplished what I believe they set out to do.
Also, White Chicks goes pretty hard in making fun of white chicks, so while I’m not the target of its humor, it’s always a nice feeling to get a cheap laugh at someone else’s expense because it makes me feel alive.
Basically 2 Hours Of Dunking On Paris Hilton And Nicole Richie
Never explicitly naming its source of inspiration, White Chicks is a masterclass in railing on public figures like Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie, who at the time of the film’s release constantly made headlines for their provocative publicity appearances fueled by the hard-partying image that they wanted to be known for.
At the center of White Chicks’ plot are FBI agents Marcus Anthony II (Marlon Wayans) and Kevin Copeland (Shawn Wayans). Tasked with escorting blonde socialite brats Tiffany (Anne Dudek) and Brittney Wilson (Maitland Ward) during their trip to the Hamptons for a fashion event to protect them from being kidnapped by a yet-to-be-known assailant who the FBI thinks will be targeting them next, Marcus and Anthony have no clue what they’re about to get themselves into.
Conceited and concerned only about their appearances, the Wilson sisters refuse to show up at the event because their faces get banged up in a car accident, giving Marcus and Kevin no other option than to dress up in white-face and take their places to orchestrate an impromptu sting operation while keeping up appearances.
Like, You Know, Whateverrrrrrr
From this point forward, White Chicks plays out exactly how you’d expect as Marcus and Kevin dress up like Tiffany and Brittney while doing their best impersonations of upper-class white socialites who are petty, shallow, and downright annoying. With no shortage of fart humor, we’re graced with scenes involving Marcus dressed as Tiffany, stuffing his face with ribs during a lunch date with basketball Latrell Spencer (Terry Crews) while dropping frequent and pungent butt bombs, which is somehow a turn-on to the latter, who cannot control his baser urges fueled by his need for carnal companionship.
If toilet humor isn’t your thing, there’s also a drawn out scene in which Marcus’ Tiffany and Kevin’s Brittney belt out “yo mama” jokes at an alarming rate that suggest their rivals, Heather (Jamie King) and Megan Vandergeld (Brittany Daniel), have a mother who’s so stupid that she once visited Dr. Dre for a Pap Smear before then suggesting that her coochie makes beatbox noises and then acting out what that would sound like.
For A Very Specific Audience
I’m not trying to throw any shade when I say that White Chicks is meant for a very specific audience, but you have to go into films like this with little to no expectations, and be into exchanges like the ones I just mentioned because there is no shortage of gross out gags, screaming, and low-brow humor in this movie. Surprisingly, the whole kidnapping plot actually has legs to it, and the big reveal actually caught me off guard because I was so focused on the shtick, which didn’t do White Chicks’ storytelling any favors.
That is to say that White Chicks is a well-written film as far as its beats and narrative framework are considered. But I’d be lying to you if I said it wasn’t tough to make it through the third act to experience the payoff.
As of this writing, White Chicks is available for streaming on Max.
