B.A.P.s Review

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Anyone who can raise a furtive snigger at the Carry On-style premise of the title should enjoy it while it lasts, because it's the only laugh you're likely to get from this truly appalling and amateurish culture-clash comedy.

Berry, in her first leading role, and big screen debutante Desselle are the B.A.P.s (Black American Princesses) in question, a hip reference to the fact that "they've got it goin' on" despite brash, senseless conversation and table-tending at a low-grade greasy spoon. Heading to LA so Berry can audition in vain as a dancer in a rap video, the pair are then whisked to Landau's palatial mansion by his nephew (Jonathan Fried), there for Berry to pose as the granddaughter of Landau's youthful love and fill his remaining days with cheer before cancer finally claims him. Cue thumping soundtrack-backed, Pretty Woman-style shopping sprees and other assorted cavorting, as Landau jollies it up unaware of a plot to swipe all his loot, and the B.A.P.s turn the austere household upside down with loud, brash antics.

It's bad, real bad, with frequently excruciating dialogue, often bewildering storytelling and a denouement actually drowned out by incidental music, that makes for a painful and staggeringly inept movie. Such a slight running time suggests that perhaps an over-enthusiastic scalpel was taken to the scenes which would presumably allow this to make some sort of sense, but there's little excuse for this sort of mess.