Ebony Jerido Natete as Natete. Chequita Jackson Paula as Paula. Jerard Washington Gerard as Gerard. Johnny Roses Mr. Weinberg as Mr. Kisha Richardson Lavonica as Lavonica.
Monet Dunham Denisha as Denisha. Wendell Moore Mr. Moore as Mr. William Badgett Cedric as Cedric. Ron L. Cox Clinic Doctor as Clinic Doctor.
Richie Carter Rashawn as Rashawn. Mwata Cofer Amiri as Amiri. Shawn King Andre as Andre. More like this. Watch options. Storyline Edit. She dreams of medical school, a family, and an escape from the generational poverty and street-corner life her friends seem to have accepted as their lot.
But personal and sexual challenges confront Chantel on her way to fulfilling these dreams. Rated R for language and sexuality. Did you know Edit. Trivia The initials "I. Despite the title, however, there is only one scene where Chantel Mitchell is seen in the subway. User reviews 23 Review. Top review. Excellent Movie. I thought this was an excellent movie.
It held my attention the whole time. The only acting I saw that wasn't really professional was by Ty and some of the smaller characters. But, really, that only added to the realism.
Some people say there was overacting. To me these critics are probably overreacting to 3 things: 1 Johnson's hard accent which if you are not used to, will think is over dramatical. Thankfully, her footwork proved that she still hasn't lost her touch, but for the love of all that's holy The luster to the formerly showstopping steps have now dulled to a rusty halt. His fondness for that rigid poplocking only serve to make you appear like the next spokesperson for Icy Hot and far removed from the sultry stage presence we know and love you for.
Reach out and dial Fatima Robinson 's number. It's not too late. More like utterly Ferg-ettable. Was she: A battling a pesky urinary tract infection? My guess is D. She knew that Gwen Stefani was watching her swagger jacking from stage left and the poor muppet got scared back into a drunken stupor her sidekick schlepping as the Black Dr. Seuss couldn't snap her out of. It's one thing to lose the coordination with heavy dance moves, but to be afflicted with rigor mortis with the personality of a cactus?
She can shake her ass and her boobs in the camera for music videos, but when it comes to stage presence, girl ain't got none. The director couldn't even minimize the damage with a bunch of zooming camera shots. About two-thirds into her song, she seemed to forget the words. But then again, it can't be easy to dance and jump around a lot when you're desperately trying to hold your bladder.
I sure hope this chick's 15 minutes are up. The only thing she has going for her is the ability to hammer nails with her forehead. That's more of a circus talent so how the hell did Mumm-Ra wind up in the winner's circle as Female Artist of the Year?
Maybe her 1 fan in Jigga Christ had a little something to do with that outcome. Ah well, jumpoffs of the world rejoice. Score this one for the side chick. Somewhere I think wifey's keying the bumper of the Maybach out of frustration. When the entire free world's analyzed your left mammary in high definition, a bit of restraint is a good idea for walking the red carpet.
However, raiding the boys' department at Bloomingdales? Not so much. The bat mitzvah-sized neckwear. The dinner napkin cufflinks with matching tranquilizer dart.
The dated matte lip liner. And for Chrissakes, missing the memo about a month late in hopping onto the Anna Wintour bob bandwagon? So, how long did G-Stef have to jerk off that yummy hubby for just the right amount of protein to give the Judy Jetson 'do its Aqua Net hold? All of a sudden I've got the munchies for a Little Debbie swiss roll. There's a rationale behind Denise Richards deciding to throw some goodwill towards birds flying south for the winter in that hornet's nest.
And Heather be thy name. Is there another pop superstar who blurs the lines between mega-watt likability and platinum blond vacuousness with as much joie de vivre as Gwen Stefani?
Try as I might in vain to hate her, but the truth is, I love her and all the blissful band camp dorkiness that she encompasses. Case in point: Lead single "Wind It Up", championed by frat girls coast to coast who've had one too many shots of Jagrmeister and should be in a taxi on their way to bed but instead choose to channel their inner Coyote Ugly for passed out bar patrons instead.
As radio singles go, it's an absurd-sounding concoction that lederhosens to the brink of utter ridiculousness, but there's something almost admirable about this "throw the wackiest shit on the wall and let's see if it sticks" approach. I mean, let's be real What's next? West Side Story? Unlike most singers, Stefani aims to please with style over sex appeal and oddity reigns supreme.
Early Winter is probably the closest to her past rumblings with No Doubt, scaling above indie-rock, college radio circa '88 to epic power ballad heights with an assist from co-writer, Keane's Tim Rice-Oxley. But you'd better off advised to fast forward through filler like Orange County Girl , in which the SoCal sweetheart gets all Jenny From The Block to prove "a lot of things have changed but I'm mostly the same.
But if you just slip on your tortoiseshell J. Lo sunglasses, pour yourself a Smirnoff Twisted and get lost in the beats, The Sweet Escape delivers on its name and continues in Stefani's proud tradition of being caught in the middle between the vanguard and the superficial.
Few mainstream artists can hope to produce an album as effortlessly eccentric as this, so here's to hoping that the next screwball chapter is just around the bend. Pretty in the conventional Black Barbie sense, check. Above average chops, check. Overrated, check. I already hear the angry stampede of bitter twinks in the offing ready to stab me with a Bandolino heel for daring to disparage of Our Lady of Knowles. Nowadays you can't swing a Fendi purse without knocking over four bottoms who'll scratch your eyes out for throwing shade to the diva-in-training who single handedly made the Bedazzler relevant again.
But I'll take my chances. She's the kind of artist that I want to like, but I just can't bring myself to actually drinking the laced Kool-Aid and succumbing to the madness. I mean, the whole all-girl backing band yet only strumming about 3 chords max was a good idea, I suppose in theory only and a step in the right direction.
My beef with Bey — as cohorts who've heard me riff on the topic know — is that she doesn't usually sing complete songs, either on her own, or with Destiny's Child. If the hallmark of a truly great singer is their ability to shape a piece of material and make a song work from beginning to end, then the road from mere talent show trills and onto soul with sincerity is yet untraveled.
Maybe if she wasn't such an android of stage parenting, I'd be a wee bit more accepting of Sashabot-TX But hey, I'll admit that the dip 'n pop strut of that damn Chi-Lites sample had me looking so crazy right then in the summer of ' But then came the inevitable oversaturation. On top of that, the inexplicable 5 Grammys for an album weaker than 2-ply soaked in battery acid. The reconvening and subsequent disbanding of DC3 on a farewell tour that lasted longer than The Pink Panther 's box office run.
The transformation from kitschy mallrat playing dress up in Mama's glad rags to Roc-A-Fella's gangsta's moll, surgically attached to the hip with her svengali, Jay-Z from South Beach to St. And apparently, neither could everyone else. The decibel shredding follow-up in Ring The Alarm which was chock full of Basic Instinct parodies did little else to restore the luster to Daddy Warbucks' longterm investment.
However, with the release of Irreplaceable , Bee comes full circle back to the neck rolling badass she longs to be. And a welcome return it is. You'd be hard pressed to find a man, woman or drag queen who ain't uttering "to the left, to the left. Taken at face value, you'd think that everyone on the planet's going all Waiting To Exhale on their lovers, regaining their backbone and calling up the locksmith to make sure the creep stays out for good.
Me, I think it represents the best of what finely crafted pop gems have to offer because it connects us in a way that hardly anything else on the dial bothers to anymore.
So after all the catty punchlines and putdowns, I'll grant her a temporary reprieve simply because my defenses are worn ragged and resistance is futile. I'm diggin' this a lot.
But not nearly enough to cop that two week stream of unconsciousness touted as her sophomore album though. No sir. Belle Reve, the prison with the highest mortality rate When LeBron and his young son Dom are trapped in a digital space by a rogue After saving the life of their heir apparent, tenacious loner Snake Eyes is welcomed In the s, five men struggling with being gay in their Evangelical church started An aging hairdresser escapes his nursing home to embark on an odyssey across his After Bobby and his best friend Kevin are kidnapped and taken to a strange house Just Another Girl on the I.
TMDb Score. NR 1 hr 32 min Jan 1st, Drama.
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