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Baby
Boy
John Singleton burst onto the scene ten years ago with his debut film Boyz N the Hood. That searing, visceral portrait of life in South Central L.A. heralded a new African-American voice in Hollywood and helped usher in a whole series of gritty urban dramas. Unfortunately, most of those other flicks about "da hood" didn't measure up, and Singleton's subsequent output (Poetic Justice, Higher Learning, Shaft) has been inept, formulaic, or both. Singleton's latest film, however, finds him returning to South Central. If Baby Boy isn't exactly a sequel to Boyz, it does explore the same themes of violence, survival, love, and what it means to be a man in a black, urban society. And with Singleton back in familiar surroundings, he's crafted a film of greater power, if not depth, than his more recent efforts. Baby Boy stars singer and model Tyrese Gibson as Jody, a young man entering his 20s with little direction beyond juggling his two girlfriends. He's happy living at home with his mama Juanita, hanging out with his friend Sweetpea, and checking in on his two babies and their mothers Yvette and Peanut. But when his mama finds a new boyfriend, suddenly Jody faces the possibility of being kicked out of his own house and forced to grow up. On a whim one day, he decides to get his life together and start a business selling women's clothes in local hair salons. Surprisingly, that's moderately successful, though the movie doesn't spend much time on Jody's financial pursuits. Instead, it's much more interested in his romantic ones and, in particular, his relationship with Yvette (portrayed with verve by Taraji Henson). Though Jody's happy to have fathered a child ("one thing I know how to do is make pretty babies"), he's not especially eager to commit himself to Yvette. He'd rather just borrow her car while she's at work, show up at her apartment and have her cook for him, and engage in intense, periodic bouts of sex. While Yvette is much more together than Jody--she has a steady office job, along with her own place and car--she's willing to put up with his shenanigans, at least for a while. Jody and Yvette's relationship forms the core of Baby Boy and its conflicts. Will Jody commit to Yvette and stop messing around with other women? Will Yvette finally stand up for herself and tell Jody where to get off? And what about Yvette's old boyfriend (played by rap star Snoop Dogg) who's soon to get out of jail? You can never accuse a John Singleton film of being subtle, and Baby Boy is no exception. The conflicts are broad and obvious, with most scenes devolving into either shouting matches or explicit sex. The dialogue, when it's not laying out reams of exposition, is trite ("why are you so afraid to grow up and be a man?") or flat ("Today I begin a new life, for I am the master of my abilities"). And the film's secondary characters, particularly Omar Gooding as Sweetpea and Tamara Laseon Bass as Peanut, are merely foils designed to move the plot along (in stark contrast to Ice Cube's magnificent portrayal in Boyz). Nonetheless, the film's central
story is compelling. Taraji Henson, whose previous acting consists mostly
of television work, has the right mix of strength and vulnerability; and
you genuinely believe that Yvette loves Jody. And Gibson, who's not likely
to win an Oscar anytime soon, is good-natured and sexy in a way that makes
you care about his character. Standing in for the Laurence Fishburne character
in Boyz is Ving Rhames
Singleton, who also wrote the film, is concerned with how young black men make the transition to adulthood. His conclusions, such as they are, are strange and convoluted. I won't spoil the ending for you, but if I understand the movie correctly, Baby Boy seems to be advocating some sort of violence as a rite of passage. Disregarding Singleton's philosophy, though, Baby Boy is still a compelling film with two characters we care about. In this season, that's saying a lot. J. Robert Parks
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