Not Quite Right

by armond white

"hello, denzel!" queen latifah exclaims when she encounters her blind date in just wright. her reference to denzel washington affirms his star-status and a generally-accepted standard of male glamour. it also recalls barbra streisand's opening line in funny girl when she looked into a mirror and sarcastically addressed herself, "hello, gorgeous." queen latifah doesn't tease herself that way because she hasn't yet achieved denzel's sex symbol status or streisand's vainglory. but just wright-a black chick-flick-takes awkward steps toward that goal.

just wright's deprecating storyline casts latifah as a confident but hopeless, ample-sized young woman named leslie wright. she's a successful new jersey physical therapist who buys her own house and is a lifelong nets b-ball fan-yet is still single. that's not an uncommon circumstance, but the film is an unrealistic contrivance: it proposes that leslie/latifah, who has beautiful smooth skin and an engaging smile, can't attract a man who is into big girls. she can only find men friends, or loses nets star scott mcknight (common) to the svelte, golddigger morgan (paula patton).

what's the good of latifah becoming a movie star if she isn't going to bring new, credible experience to the screen? latifah ought to be initiating a new big girl sexual type into mainstream culture; she could join that panoply of bosomy icons like sophia loren, claudia cardinale and anita ekberg, whose life-size posters once decorated the legendary west village restaurant big dish-an homage to particular cinematic taste and pulchritude.

latifah's pop career started with the hip-hop integrity of the 1989 recording, wrath of my madness, a credo of single black female empowerment that may simply have been commercial calculation. yet none of that brash audacity has appeared in latifah's film career. last time she played a physical therapist (in denzel's lousy the bone collector), the only non-boring moment was seeing her gutted by a serial killer. since then, latifah has morphed her forceful personality into mere bodaciousness. (her oscar nomination as the quasi-dyke prison matron in chicago was early proof the oscars no longer were about merit.) latifah has repeatedly been cast in neo-mammy variations of black womanhood. just wright's romcom premise is too formulaic to adjust latifah's genetic stereotype to her cultural heritage. she should be seen as a sought-after community presence just as pearl bailey (whom latifah somewhat resembles) once was.

screenwriter michael elliot ignores african-american erotic types, preferring the chick-flick contrast of good girl leslie and schemer morgan, yet he glosses that, too: routine feminist sympathy shows morgan's desperation (she sleeps with a teddy bear made of dollar bills). elliot's clichés ignore the way black women cultivate their own erotic style and beauty standards. colorism is often an issue-morgan is high-yellow, leslie is brownskin-but size often is not. hollywood stereotype keeps latifah stuck in neo-mammy mode. and latifah isn't a good enough actress to reveal emotional aspiration; neither she nor patton bring depth to the phenomenon of women who orbit around successful athletes. bluffing her way through the part, neo-mammy is all latifah reveals.

as marriageable prey mcknight, common's a light-skinned jason kidd-type yet weirdly weak, even before a game injury nearly costs his career and splits his devotion to the two women. common seems spooked, the way richard pryor often did in those '80s movies that in living color summarized in the parody "scared for no reason." this is the first film where common does not play a thug; some hip-hop stars seem to lose all control and creativity when they cross over into film-and that's really scary.

careerism makes rappers latifah and common settle for hollywood triteness. just wright prioritizes success ("believe in yourself!" is leslie's pep talk) more than it explores romance or sex: latifah's one-person love montage seems onanistic. like beauty shop, just wright's message conflates love with success. that's scary, too.

just wright directed by sanaa hamri runtime: 111 min.