When Ice Cube released AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted few would have predicted that, two and a half decades later, he’d be the closest thing to Jimmy Stewart in 21st-century cinema. As Calvin Palmer, co-owner of Chicago’s top-notch locale for stylish ’dos and sagacious bon mots, Ice Cube is a caring father, crafty businessman and, he’ll come to realise, community linchpin. But his neighbourhood is quite different from the Bedford Falls where Stewart’s George Bailey lived in It’s a Wonderful Life. “The south side is no place to flex,” Palmer sighs to his wife Jennifer (Jazsmin Lewis), referring to their 14-year-old son Jalen (Michael Rainey Jr). All parents have their woes when the kids hit puberty. Parents in black America have struggles that seem only to be getting worse.
Barbershop: The Next Cut (part three in a trilogy that began in 2002, though no prior knowledge is required here) is directed by Malcolm D Lee, the more commercially minded cousin of firebrand director Spike Lee. Even without the family connection, it’s hard not to think of this as the sunnier, more audience-friendly version of Spike Lee’s midlife masterpiece Chi-Raq. The gimmick of iambic pentameter is missing, but considering the voices of the barbershop work as a built-in Greek chorus, there’s more than enough theatricality.
Many voices drop by, the most amusing of which belongs to Cedric the Entertainer’s old-timer Eddie, huffing under his breath about “smart phones, dumb women” and spinning tall tales about giving “Barry” a haircut when he was a local community organiser. “Negrosaurus” he’s called during one of the epic put-down sessions – looking at someone so old is like watching the trailer to Jurassic Park. “That’s a good one,” he mumbles.
Calvin’s shop has changed over the years, and has joined forces with a ladies’ beauty parlour. While the men and women keep to their own side of the room, the zings are lobbed over like volleyball spikes, and Nicki Minaj’s Draya, whose outfits in this film will reverberate in certain quarters for some time, does most of the punching. She is loud, brash, funny and has tremendous self-awareness. “Just because I’m thick doesn’t mean …” she snaps at co-worker Rashad (Common), who may be misreading signals.
Chicago’s gang violence is so out of control that if there were even a weekend ceasefire it would be a blessing. The barbershop declares itself neutral ground, and will offer free haircuts and weaves for two days, hoping to build a safe space for talking. It’s a bit pie-in-the-sky but makes for a wonderful musical montage as our heroes shave and snip towards a brighter future. Naturally, Calvin’s son spends the weekend facing some hard choices while enduring some peer pressure.
Barbershop: The Next Cut is hardly subtle, but it is more nuanced than you might expect. Everyone wants the violence to stop, but no government plan gains traction. Raja (Utkarsh Ambudkar), the one “non-negro” worker, offers up some centre-right talking points. Why were his parents able to come to this America without any money and thick accents yet still find success? Terri (Eve) fires back that there is a difference between immigrating and being imported. Neither really convinces the other, but at least they are talking.
These scenes of sociological discourse are practically anti-cinema, but the performers do a good job selling it. Less interesting are the Three’s Company-level sitcom hijinks, one of which involves Minaj hiding in a closet and inadvertently knocking things over with her centre-of-frame derriere. Other comic tangents, particularly JB Smoove’s Milo Minderbender-esque huckster, are more successful.
Despite this, the drama, while highly predictable, really does work. Ice Cube roils in self-doubt as he considers moving to a safer neighbourhood. All we want is for his son to wise up and realise that, in this case, father knows best. The movie doesn’t pretend to solve any problems, but shows that community and communication– and in this case laughter – might.
• Barbershop: The Next Cut is out in the US on 15 April and the UK on 19 April.
