Flyguy (Antonio “Huggy Bear” Fargas), a former crime-fighter, is the best example of this kind of instantly deflated machismo. And later, the sex/big-dick-hungry Cherry (Anna-Marie Johnson) turns out to be all fake, from her wig down to her fake leg. Ma talks back when Jack begs her to stop fighting his fights. Even well-meaning men like Jack don’t get to use women to make themselves feel better. This is especially true of Keenen Ivory’s female characters. Stereotypes are comforting because they can be mocked even as they’re used.
Vernon’s fourth wall –breaking protest says a lot about Wayans’s attitude towards formulaic expectations. Big (John Vernon, Animal House’s Dean, Dirty Harry’s mayor) take over? And whatever happened to square-jawed heroes like John Slade ( Hitman star Bernie Casey), Hammer, and Slammer (Isaac Hayes, and Jim Brown)? (He died from wearing too many gold chains.) Jack is outraged: How have the native sons of “Any Ghetto U.S.A.” fallen so far from grace? How did crime boss Mr. Keenen Ivory plays Jack Spade, an Army vet who comes home after his brother Junebug “OG”s. So while I’m Gonna Git You Sucka eventually becomes the type of film it parodies, it’s also a superior satire. In his film, Keenen Ivory broke the genre down to a main theme: black protagonists’ recurring fears of emasculation. While both Scary Movies and both A Haunted House movies look down on the horror genre they send up, I’m Gonna Git You Sucka lovingly sends up tropes used in blaxploitation films like Shaft, Dolemite, and Super Fly. 1988’s I’m Gonna Git You Sucka, written, directed by, and starring Keenen Ivory, is everything their recent efforts are not. Still, at least one Wayans has produced a good movie.
Between this movie, its predecessor, a pair of Scary Movies, White Chicks, Dance Flick, and Little Man, Marlon, Shawn, and Keenen Ivory have racked up an embarrassment of embarrassments. Amongst other things, this weekend’s release of A Haunted House 2 might make you wonder: Why are the Wayans brothers? That’s not an incomplete thought, but a reflection of the existential malaise the barely-were comedians now inspire.
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