Booty Call

Roger Ebert actually liked this movie.  So did Gene Siskel.

I didn’t.

First, the title.  It’s deeply misleading.  It should’ve been called Double Date.

Tommy Davidson has been dating Tamala Jones for 7 weeks.  They haven’t had sex.  Why?  Because Jones wants to make sure he’s “the right one”.  Talk about antiquated thinking.  Wouldn’t you want to know immediately if you’re sexually compatible with this guy?  Why delay your disappointment if he’s not?

Davidson’s best friend is Jamie Foxx who constantly gives him a hard time about this.  They make a bet about whether Davidson will finally consummate his relationship on this particular night.  Jones’ best friend is Vivica A. Fox who lives directly across from her in their apartment building.  She correctly notes on multiple occasions that Jones is a big prude.

All four meet in a Chinese restaurant (the women live in Chinatown) where their server turns out to be an unfunny gay stereotype who hits on Foxx.  When Fox lays eyes on her date for the first time, she’s not impressed.  She doesn’t like his hair which leads to two obvious jokes.  But after Jones complains about a gangster’s lit cigar (she’s very anti-smoking), Foxx mosies on over there to politely ask him to put it out.  In Mandarin.  (He learned the language from kung-fu movies.)

When he returns triumphant to the table, Fox insults him in Mandarin.  They argue in Mandarin.  In English, she brags about being rich (yet she lives in the same building as Jones) while all he can boast about is his gold gas card (he’s doesn’t drive).  You know exactly where this is going.

After dinner, Fox cleans up at the pool table.  Then, it’s back to Jones’ place for a game of cards and a mutually unsexy game of footsie.  Jones has a little dog named Killa who plays a major role in putting the bickering Foxx and Fox together.  The joke is they don’t realize it.  Let’s just say it’s quite gross.

Fox has a weird fetish.  She gets turned on when her partners do impressions.  So, Foxx indulges her by citing famous quotes from Jesse Jackson and Martin Luther King, curious choices considering their well-known philandering.  His impressions aren’t particularly good.

Then he does Cosby, which takes on a whole new meaning today.  I’ll admit it.  One of his lines made me laugh.  He also throws in a little Captain Kirk, as well.

With Foxx and Fox out of the apartment, Jones finally decides to get it on with Davidson.  There’s a peculiar moment where she thinks she’ll die having sex if he doesn’t wear a condom.  (Does she not trust him?)  Unfortunately, when he pulls one out of its wrapping, it falls to the floor and that goddamn dog snatches it.  Why even bother trying to get it back?

When Davidson learns that Foxx doesn’t have any spares (he didn’t bring any), it’s off to the store to buy some more.  38 dollars later, Jones grumbles they’re lambskin, not latex.  So, Foxx and Davidson go to a different store where they encounter two more tired stereotypes, a couple of Indian immigrants, and a hypocritical churchgoing judge (a pre-stardom Bernie Mac) who lectures them on the sins of fornication.  (Cosby should’ve played this part.)  Back in Jones’ apartment, with everything seemingly back on track, Davidson proceeds to go downtown when the clearly germophobic Jones insists he use some Saran Wrap.

Say what?

With none in her kitchen, an increasingly irritated Foxx is dragged out of Fox’s apartment by Davidson one last time to go back to that same variety store run by the same two Indian guys to buy some.  But then a gunman shows up.  Foxx actually suggests they steal some food and booze because of the distraction but thankfully doesn’t go through with it.  When they attempt to sneak up on him, that allows one of the clerks to pull out an uzi and proceed to needlessly destroy his profits.  It should be noted that he completely misses the gunman.

Finally back in his girlfriend’s building and not knowing what the fuck he’s doing, Davidson makes a very dumb decision.  So does Foxx.  When you find out that Jones wanted Davidson to use the Saran Wrap on her not him, you start questioning his loyalty and his intelligence.

Thoroughly fed up, Foxx and Davidson decide to bolt.  The women plead with them to return.  Then, Foxx slips up, Davidson gets accidentally shot in the leg, and we’re suddenly in the ER where the cheap jokes and well-worn clichés continue to pile up rather quickly.

The misnamed, critically jackhammered Booty Call became a surprise, modest hit during its theatrical run 20 years ago.  Would I have laughed more if I saw it back then?  I’ll never know.  What I do know is that two laughs in 80 minutes is woefully inadequate for a sex comedy.  (The name of the gangster in the restaurant, a blatant groaner, is the only other funny moment.)

The film is so shallow, so strange and so obvious, it never gets on that comic roll it desperately needs to work.  What it thinks is truly outrageous is just plain annoying and icky.

Booty Call should’ve been a sexy, laugh riot.  Instead, it’s depressingly deflating.

Dennis Earl
Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
Sunday, June 25, 2017
3:40 p.m.

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Published in: on June 25, 2017 at 3:40 pm  Leave a Comment  

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