‘White Men Can’t Jump’: Rapper Jack Harlow Flops Big in Acting Debut
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A memorable scene from Ron Shelton’s 1992 hoops comedy White Men Can’t Jump finds a playground baller (played by former NBA great Marques Johnson) fuming after he falls victim to a hustle. First the big guy pulls out a razor. Then he decides he needs something a little stronger, so he heads to his car to retrieve his gun – at which point everyone scrambles madly for the exits. Based on a real-life chapter of basketball lore, the moment is both scary (perhaps even more so now, when all public space is in danger of becoming the Wild, Wild West) and riotously funny in showing what can happen when a hustle goes haywire.
Hulu’s new White Men remake runs the scene back – except this time the aggrieved party unleashes a flamethrower. The updated, oversized mayhem is emblematic of a culture and a movie in which the outrageous is too often deemed an improvement, and showbiz suits can’t seem to leave cult classics well enough alone. Thinner than Victor Wembanyama and ever eager to please, the new White Men tries way too hard and acts like a teammate more interested in hamming it up than hitting the open man.
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Filling Woody Harrelson’s shoes as the white man in question is hip-hop artist Jack Harlow. His Jeremy is a shaggy goofball wisecracking his way to the bottom, pushing a detox formula and lamenting what might have been. He was once a promising prospect at Gonzaga, but that was two knee surgeries and a pain pill habit ago. At an L.A. gym one day, Jeremy encounters Kamal (Sinqua Walls), who was a top high school prospect until he ventured into the stands during a game, Malice in the Palace-style, to assault a heckling fan. They’re both prematurely washed up. But maybe, just maybe, they can save each other as they bilk unsuspecting marks out of their cash. Ain’t that sweet?
White Men Can’t Jump shows why backstory makes a poor substitute for character and narrative. The screenwriters, Kenya Barris and Doug Hall, take pains to remind us who Kamal and Jeremy once were, and how they fell on hard times. We see how Kamal’s dad (the late Lance Reddick) pushed him too hard. Jeremy tells everyone who will listen that he’s going to finally play pro ball. But the story falters in the present moment, which is ironic given that one of Jeremy’s many, many quirks – his quirks have quirks – is on-the-spot meditation. The film has none of the easy flow that defined Shelton’s original. That movie was exceedingly comfortable in its own skin, and it had a real passion for the rhythms of the game, from the backdoor cuts and handsy defense to the pleasures of trash talk. The remake is like a little brother trying to emulate its better sibling.
The film has a motif of characters wanting to punch Jeremy, and if that’s what Harlow is going for, then mission accomplished. This guy is deeply annoying, and not in a charming way; he lacks the innate innocence of Harrelson’s Billy Hoyle, a quality that also came in handy when it was time to hustle. Speaking of which: Kamal was once among the top handful of national prep prospects. He gave interviews on ESPN. How are we supposed to believe anyone is naïve enough to be swindled by him on the court, white boy accomplice or no?
But logic isn’t the movie’s weakest point. Heart is. White Men Can’t Jump plays like a cynical ploy, from its prefab banter on racial differences to its blasé indifference to its main female characters, played by Teyana Taylor and Laura Harrier. It all feels like it was made by committee. Saving graces include Reddick, whose recent death adds pathos to the role of a regretful man suffering from multiple sclerosis, and a hip-hop soundtrack that sprinkles in ‘90s gems by L.A. artists like The Pharcyde, Fatlip, and Skee-Lo.
One school of thought holds that some movies should never be remade. That applies pretty well here. The original White Men certainly isn’t sacred text – it can actually get a little baggy – but it is a lot of fun, largely because it never feels like it’s trying to play by some prescribed set of beats and expectations. The new movie feels about as genuine as a bad team claiming innocence as it tanks for lottery position. Great basketball movies are about as rare as unicorn prospects (one recent exception is Hustle, the Adam Sandler movie about a scout trying to land, well, a unicorn prospect). This one isn’t about to jump to those ranks.
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