"Good Hair" Review
OCT. 22, 2009
The Detroit News
Chris Rock's "Good Hair" is a funny film about a touchy subject. A touchy subject that one is, apparently, not supposed to touch.
That subject would be a black woman's hair. Because there's a good chance a black woman's hair isn't really that black woman's hair. Or at least it's not that black woman's hair in its natural state.
It may be actual human hair from a person in India, attached in extensions which cost upwards of $1,000. It may be a wig. Or it may actually be that person's hair after it's been straightened by chemicals that might have proven popular in Nazi torture chambers.
Either way, you're not supposed to touch it. According to Rock, you're really, really not supposed to touch it.
Rock was inspired to make this comic documentary, directed by Jeff Stilson, after one of his young daughters turned to him and asked why she didn't have "good hair."
The result of that question is a far-ranging, often hilarious film that looks at the mad extents black people -- men included, although the film's focus is women -- go to to alter their natural hair to make it look, well, more like white folks' hair. And the film's weak point is that it doesn't treat Rock's daughter's distress more seriously.
Now understand, white folks also go to ridiculous extremes with their hair, from green tint jobs to absurd shellacked helmets (which are probably just as off-limits to the human touch). White women with straight hair get perms so they have curls, white women with curly hair straighten it. So this is hardly an exclusive concern. We're all somewhat silly when it comes to tonsorial splendor.
But blacks, according to Rock, make up only 13 percent of the American population while buying some 80 percent of the hair products. Rock talks to women who have -- at best -- lower-middle-class jobs and yet are spending thousands annually on their hair, or not their hair, as well as wealthy women who regularly throw major money at their coiffures.
Rock also talks to many black gents who say the cost of a woman's hair upkeep is a major deciding factor in the dating game. Marry the woman and you're also marrying the price of her extensions.
Those extensions do indeed usually come from India, where religious devotees get their heads shaved regularly as an offering to a deity. One of the deity's agents apparently sells all this lush black hair to hair traders who take it to America for purchase.
Rock takes a shot at selling some black hair on the street. Guess what? No sale.
The film is unfailingly funny -- Rock looks at a huge vat of chemicals and estimates it would last Prince a week; he tells a long-haired Indian woman to run if she ever sees a black woman coming.
And it's filled with high-profile black woman -- Maya Angelou, Nia Long, Raven-Symoné, Eve -- talking about their hair. Sandra "Pepa" Denton of Salt-N-Pepa reveals her early trademark asymmetrical hairstyle was the result of a chemical accident. Raven-Symoné reaches up and shifts her entire head of not-her-hair with somewhat jarring abandon.
Unfortunately, a good deal of the movie revolves around an elaborate, rock concert-like haircutting competition in Atlanta, which certainly shows the black preoccupation with hair in a flashy, fun way. But that's been pretty well established in countless interviews, beauty salon visits, tag-alongs with Indian hair salesmen and a visit to a hair products convention. Even the Rev. Al Sharpton weighs in on his and his wife's preoccupation with hair.
More time -- a lot more time -- could have been spent exploring the reason why black women feel the need to emulate the hair of white women. The topic may not be as funny, but it sure is disturbing. It's easy to see why black women, and men, felt the need to adopt white styles in earlier decades. But the continuation of such identity-repressive behavior, at such a serious cost both financially and in terms of self-image, seems like it should be outdated by now.
The key words there being "should be." Myriad questions are raised by "Good Hair." It would have been nice if Rock had attempted to answer, or at least ask, more of them.
The saddest part of the film comes when Rock interviews a group of black high school senior girls, all of whom have elaborate 'dos, save one girl with an edgy afro. Most of the girls figure they need to go through such hair drama to be successful in the outside world.
The girl with a natural seems an outcast, looked down on.
And you know what? She looks great.
The Detroit News
Chris Rock's "Good Hair" is a funny film about a touchy subject. A touchy subject that one is, apparently, not supposed to touch.
That subject would be a black woman's hair. Because there's a good chance a black woman's hair isn't really that black woman's hair. Or at least it's not that black woman's hair in its natural state.
It may be actual human hair from a person in India, attached in extensions which cost upwards of $1,000. It may be a wig. Or it may actually be that person's hair after it's been straightened by chemicals that might have proven popular in Nazi torture chambers.
Either way, you're not supposed to touch it. According to Rock, you're really, really not supposed to touch it.
Rock was inspired to make this comic documentary, directed by Jeff Stilson, after one of his young daughters turned to him and asked why she didn't have "good hair."
The result of that question is a far-ranging, often hilarious film that looks at the mad extents black people -- men included, although the film's focus is women -- go to to alter their natural hair to make it look, well, more like white folks' hair. And the film's weak point is that it doesn't treat Rock's daughter's distress more seriously.
Now understand, white folks also go to ridiculous extremes with their hair, from green tint jobs to absurd shellacked helmets (which are probably just as off-limits to the human touch). White women with straight hair get perms so they have curls, white women with curly hair straighten it. So this is hardly an exclusive concern. We're all somewhat silly when it comes to tonsorial splendor.
But blacks, according to Rock, make up only 13 percent of the American population while buying some 80 percent of the hair products. Rock talks to women who have -- at best -- lower-middle-class jobs and yet are spending thousands annually on their hair, or not their hair, as well as wealthy women who regularly throw major money at their coiffures.
Rock also talks to many black gents who say the cost of a woman's hair upkeep is a major deciding factor in the dating game. Marry the woman and you're also marrying the price of her extensions.
Those extensions do indeed usually come from India, where religious devotees get their heads shaved regularly as an offering to a deity. One of the deity's agents apparently sells all this lush black hair to hair traders who take it to America for purchase.
Rock takes a shot at selling some black hair on the street. Guess what? No sale.
The film is unfailingly funny -- Rock looks at a huge vat of chemicals and estimates it would last Prince a week; he tells a long-haired Indian woman to run if she ever sees a black woman coming.
And it's filled with high-profile black woman -- Maya Angelou, Nia Long, Raven-Symoné, Eve -- talking about their hair. Sandra "Pepa" Denton of Salt-N-Pepa reveals her early trademark asymmetrical hairstyle was the result of a chemical accident. Raven-Symoné reaches up and shifts her entire head of not-her-hair with somewhat jarring abandon.
Unfortunately, a good deal of the movie revolves around an elaborate, rock concert-like haircutting competition in Atlanta, which certainly shows the black preoccupation with hair in a flashy, fun way. But that's been pretty well established in countless interviews, beauty salon visits, tag-alongs with Indian hair salesmen and a visit to a hair products convention. Even the Rev. Al Sharpton weighs in on his and his wife's preoccupation with hair.
More time -- a lot more time -- could have been spent exploring the reason why black women feel the need to emulate the hair of white women. The topic may not be as funny, but it sure is disturbing. It's easy to see why black women, and men, felt the need to adopt white styles in earlier decades. But the continuation of such identity-repressive behavior, at such a serious cost both financially and in terms of self-image, seems like it should be outdated by now.
The key words there being "should be." Myriad questions are raised by "Good Hair." It would have been nice if Rock had attempted to answer, or at least ask, more of them.
The saddest part of the film comes when Rock interviews a group of black high school senior girls, all of whom have elaborate 'dos, save one girl with an edgy afro. Most of the girls figure they need to go through such hair drama to be successful in the outside world.
The girl with a natural seems an outcast, looked down on.
And you know what? She looks great.
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