LosAngelesTimes
When the outtakes at the end don't make you laugh, what does that tell you about the movie that preceded them?
Let's give the benefit of the doubt to those who probably thought there was a glimmer of potential in the basic concept of Juwanna Mann. Must have made a sweet pitch to the suits: Hot-dogging, ball-hawking egocentric pro basketball star (Miguel A. Nunez Jr.) goes way too far in displaying (so to speak) his displeasure over being yanked from a game. His reputation, his goodies, his wife and his house fade away to the point that he has to move back home. He decides the best way to retrieve the lost glory is to dress up as a woman and play for the WNBA.
Sorry, that's the WUBA in this film. Can't imagine why the real pro league would sign off on this unless it had a psychic flash that this thing would turn out to be Tootsie for preschoolers, Some Like It Hot with training wheels.
Too bad, because a lot of talent is wasted in this crass, low-wattage endeavor, starting with Nunez, so good as the young Little Richard in Why Do Fools Fall in Love (1998) and the funniest bit player in the just-released Scooby-Doo.
As both Jamal Jeffries and his alter ego, Juwanna Mann, Nunez is encouraged to play his role at the same level of over-the-top, in-your-face shrillness from the beginning until the very end. Worse, he expends this effort to play what is, in essence, someone's stereotypical idea of an egomaniacal basketball star instead of someone with complexes that are even remotely recognizable in real life.
Vivica A. Fox, whose comedic graces are still waiting for the right vehicle, gets to only glower and twinkle as the captain of the women's team--and Jamal-Juwanna's romantic interest. (The filmmakers play a game of chicken with the possibilities here. In the end, no one wins.)
The most interesting performances are, in hoop-speak, at the movie's perimeter. One wanted much more of Kim Wayans as Juwanna's not-so-ambiguously gay teammate. And it's a kick to watch Tommy Davidson satisfy his robust appetite for scenery--with jeweled choppers, no less--as a rap star named (Why, God, why?) Puff Smokey Smoke who's hot for Juwanna. Both these In Living Color vets need their own movies--and better people to make them. Clock's running.
Gene Seymour
Los Angeles Times
Copyright 2002 Los Angeles Times