Next Friday

by Tom Meek

This sequel to Friday lights up more of the same crass, hood-in-cheek humor. Rapper Ice Cube again does the scriptwriting duties and again stars as Craig Jones, the unemployed South Central homeboy who passes time chillin' and smoking big, fat bones. In the prequel, Craig whomped the hood's resident bad-ass; now, after a jailbreak, the psycho wants a little payback. To save his skin, Craig hightails it to his nouveau riche (can you say lotto?) uncle's posh suburban crib. But it turns out the burbs are even dicier than the hood. Next door there's a posse of gun-wielding low-riders -- who rip off uproarious quips from American Me and Scarface -- plus their buxom sister and an irate bull terrier. Craig's cousin (Mike Epps as the watered-down substitute for motormouth Chris Tucker) is on the run from his pregnant ex-girlfriend and her round, Terminator-esque sidekick. Then there's the uncle's lascivious playmate, who has a tongue-flicking thing for Craig. Throw in a chihuahua who defecates in immense proportions, a used condom in a hot tub, and some unmentionable bathroom humor and you've got a pretty silly mess that also squeezes the race card for cheap laughs.