This third feature from director Malcolm Lee (Spike's cousin) is an affectionate nod to '70s roller-disco culture. It features the provocative humor that made his sophomore effort, Undercover Brother (which also had a distinct '70s flavor), one of the funniest films in recent memory. Unfortunately, it also falls into the narrative conventions that his debut, The Best Man, refreshingly managed to avoid.
Much of this movie's success depends upon skating a thin line between past and present. The most potent aspect of the picture is its acute sense of place and time. Not only does it create a commanding vision of 1978 pop culture (from Star Wars, bell-bottoms and George Gervin to Kool & the Gang and the Atari 2600), but also the socioeconomic conditions of teenage boys living on the south side of Chicago. Both of these environments meet in the tiny detail of hearing Harry Caray announcing a White Sox game.
The protagonists are led by Bow Wow's Xavier, who lives with his single, unemployed father (McBride) and sister. "X" and his ragtag group of friends just want to spend their days boogie-oogie-oogie-ing at the local roller-skating rink. When their hangout closes, they must journey uptown where the affluent kids listen to the tamer tunes of the Bee Gees.
Such cultural precision creates a powerful sense of authenticity, but what happens when cracks start to show in this formidable demonstration of realism?
Bow Wow shows a greater screen presence than in previous roles, but when "trippin'" slips into his vernacular, you're jolted back to present day. I don't know when the term as it's currently used first entered the lexicon, but if it was 1978, it certainly wasn't captured in the movies of the period. Perhaps this is a petty complaint but when the climax manages to incorporate the stolen dance-routine scene from Bring It On while simultaneously devolving into a You Got Served-style showdown, such things become noticeable.
It's also disconcerting that all the male actors are given sharply observed characters to play while the women are subjected to countless camera gazes and reduced to watching from the sidelines or wiping the sweat off the guy's glistening pectorals. Is this a comment on 1970s culture or a function of today's society? Can we tell the difference?