Da' Booty Shop Movie Review

Frances Ford Coppola once predicted that major studio filmmaking would someday go the way of the dinosaur, suggesting that new technology and the ready access to same would lead a revolution where viewers, not major corporate conglomerates, made the movies that would redefine the art form. Clearly, after seeing Da' Booty Shop, we will be waiting a long time before said revolt results in something cinematically sound. While wannabe auteur Marcello Thedford deserves credit for trying to tap into the raucous urban comedy market with this clearly homemade entry, he stumbles more than succeeds. Thanks to the ineptitude shown onscreen, and the amateurishness all around, what could have been fun instead turns into 80 minutes of mindless mediocrity.

When Tyrone (Thedford) lands in jail -- again -- he asks his stripper sister Yolanda (Trina McGee) to watch his fledgling beauty salon business for him. All she has to do is show up and not sell the place. So naturally, the self-described "Queen of the $20 Lap Dance" contacts a real estate agent, gets mixed up with a shady Caucasian client, and discovers that her brother owes thousands of dollars of back taxes and bills on the place. In a desperate move which she hopes will generate some quick cash, she calls on her fellow exotic dancers to help her generate costumers. Within a few short weeks, Hair Erotica becomes a neighborhood fixture, much to the chagrin of the man trying to buy up all the properties.

There are so many things wrong with Da' Booty Shop that instead of listing them one by one, let's try to mine something positive out of the experience. As an actress, Trina McGee is almost unwatchable. But she is easy on the eyes in an ersatz Tyra Banks kind of way. Similarly, the rest of the female cast could be considered less than Cover Girl in quality, but they do have substantial curves in all the right, non-anorexic places. There are also moments when the meandering adlibbing and lack of a cohesive screenplay give the entire project an earthy, almost naturalistic feel, and one can easily imagine a certain segment of the population cottoning to this saucy, sexy silliness.

But in the end, Da' Booty Shop is just bad. There is no real sense of character , and the narrative relies on a last minute paperwork reprieve so illogical that scientists are convinced that matter could not exist in such a plot hole. Along the way, sequences that are supposed to be comical are instead unintentionally hilarious, and Thedford will use almost any excuse to get his well-endowed cast to show off their lovely lady humps. This isn't a case of something being so bad it winds up being good. Instead, Da' Booty Shop creates a new standard all its own -- so terrible it's tragic.

You see, it's clear that Thedford had good intentions -- even if said motivation was purely money-oriented -- and he brings together a group of people who seem perfectly in sync with the mood and atmosphere he's trying to create. No one except the sole white actor in the company comes across as mannered or arch. Instead, the players do a decent job of being themselves on screen -- and not in a good way. With its nonstop electronic blip box beats going off in the background and the lack of anything remotely booty-licious up front, this is one fine entertainment establishment that doesn't need saving. It needs condemning.