‘Good Hair’: Chris Rock documentary works despite a few tangles
In the world of hair— especially women’s hair— whatever you’ve got is whatever you don’t want.
Shiny straight locks? You want curls. Blazing sunset red? You want midnight black.
That’s one reason why my town, which doesn’t have a single bookstore, has several hair salons.
But for women whose hair usually comes in one color and texture—dark and curly —this longing becomes a particular problem.
GOOD HAIR
Three stars (Out of four)
Rated: PG-13
Chris Rock searches the ends of the earth and the depths of black culture in a documentary exploring the way hairstyles impact the activities, pocketbooks, sexual relationships and self-esteem of black people. Opens Friday in area theaters.
“Good Hair” is the movie that trash-talking comedian and devoted father Chris Rock decided to make when one of his daughters came up to him and asked why she didn’t have —you guessed it—“good hair.”
He knew what she really meant. It was, “Why don’t I have ‘white’ hair?”
Considering her innocent question has led Rock to a funny and far-reaching documentary about African-American women (and a few fly guys) and what they’re willing to do to get the “good hair” they weren’t born with. Caustic, scalp-burning chemicals? Of course. Hair weaves that cost thousands of dollars, and even more money (and time) to keep? Not a second thought.
Rock, who honed his conversational skills on his short-lived but excellent TV show, casts his hairnet wide. He talks to Al Sharpton, who, while showing off his own processed locks, decries that the black hair-care industry is no longer predominantly black-owned. He travels to India to find the source of all those tresses. And, in the film’s largest segment, he goes to an industry show in Atlanta, where — reality-show style — we’re introduced to several hairdressers competing for a $20,000 prize.
That part is fun. More forced is Rock’s Michael Moore-style stunts, like trying to sell bags of African-American hair on the street, or asking obviously ludicrous questions of some of his subjects. What would make the film more than fun is if Rock had pushed a little deeper into the subject. Certainly there seems to be something confusing about a black activist like Sharpton spending large sums of money to straighten his hair.
Sharpton’s argument is that since the very idea of “relaxing” your hair is an African-American one, it’s all good. But Rock’s daughter wouldn’t think she needed “good hair” if there weren’t people — and media images — out there telling her she had “bad hair.”
Not that I, as a white man with his own follicle problems, have any place in this debate. And Rock (who smartly avoids any lecturing) has only marginally more. Whatever adults want to do to feel better about their looks is their own business.
But there’s a reason why Rock’s adorable little girl still thinks she doesn’t look right. And that’s because almost all of the celebrities she sees don’t look like her, and are willing to go to a lot of pain and expense not to.
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