Shawn Wayans, Marlon Wayans, ...
Credit: White Chicks: Joe Lederer
  • Movie

By now, ”Some Like It Hot” has become a genre unto itself, and the role-reversal comedies that descend from it, regardless of how chintzy, have a way of stumbling into zeitgeist collisions of sex and style. In White Chicks, the latest slipshod taboo-nudging burlesque from the Wayans brothers, a pair of disgruntled FBI agents (Marlon and Shawn Wayans) put on alabaster body paint, latex facial padding, and blue contact lenses in order to go undercover as the Wilson sisters, who coo and roll their eyes and speak in spoiled-rotten Valley patois (”I’m so frickin’ pissed!”).

The joke, it would appear, is that the agents could hardly be more different from the vapid Hilton-sister knockoffs they’re impersonating. Yet there’s a tickle of surprise — I wouldn’t quite call it wit — nestled within the dress-up-doll broadness. Incognito, the Wayans brothers may look like twin plastic Halloween masks of Tori Spelling, but the real joke is that the aggressive swagger of two cliché African-American law enforcers overlaps, in bizarre ways, with the bitch-slap hauteur of today’s tiara brats. ”White Chicks” is a tawdry excuse for a movie, but it has a handful of shameless giggles.

White Chicks
  • Movie
  • PG-13
  • 105 minutes
  • Keenen Ivory Wayans