Bringing Down the House is the kind of situation-driven comedy that shouldn't work -- because the concept is too cheap. Sassy black woman comes into the life of stuffy white guy; soon, stuffy white guy's clueless assumptions about black culture melt away and, next thing you know, he's talking "street" language. Sounds pretty dopey, I know; but I must admit I had a good time. This movie is much funnier than I expected it to be. 

Some of the credit must go to the extreme lengths the film goes through to milk laughter from pure shock-and-horror. Bringing Down the House doesn't settle for subtle racism in  its villains -- it makes their bigotry loud and obnoxious, targeting it as the subject of ridicule. After meeting Peter Sanderson (Steve Martin), a rich lawyer who is only passively unenlightened about diversity, Queen Latifah's character, Charlene Morton (wonder if there's a relation to "Mama" Morton, the character Latifah played in Chicago?), encounters one clueless racist after another, from Peter's gold-digging ex-sister-in-law, Ashley (Missi Pyle), to Peter's high-priced, matronly client, Mrs. Arness (Joan Plowright). The whole lot of them are out-and-out prejudiced snobs, as exemplified by Peter's neighbor, a little ol' lady (Betty White) whose comment about Mexicans exposes how she equates them to gardeners.

Into the midst of this sea of offensiveness and insensitivity steps Charlene, who attacks these Beverly Hills bullies with, as Samuel L. Jackson might put it, "great vengeance and furious anger." As she squares off against the gold-digger, who called her "Aunt Jemimah," or puts up with Mrs. Arness, whose recollection of an old slave song dropped my jaw to the floor, the movie has already done its job. We root for Charlene. And the thrashing she extends not only to these people but also to other societal offenders, such as a would-be teenage rapist, makes us laugh. Well, it sure made me laugh.

In keeping the guffaws flowing, the majority of the credit belongs to Queen Latifah. She's a perfect movie heroine -- black, heavyset, and full of screen charisma. Even without the movie pushing our buttons with its racist antagonists, Latifah would have won us over with her charm, attitude, and overwhelming self-confidence and assuredness. I'd love to see her in a movie with better material, but this will suffice for now. Meanwhile, Steve Martin is still Steve Martin -- affable, snarky, ruffled, and sympathetic. We like him too, but, then, we're used to him. We may even forgive him when he inevitably must play that white-guy-trying-to-act-black. But make no mistake -- this is Latifah's movie, and Martin's just in it.

Bringing Down the House goes for one cheap joke too many -- more than a few are cringeworthy -- but thankfully the actors keep the movie lively. And, once in a while, they save some badly-written scenarios with their devotion to their characters. Eugene Levy is the middle-aged white nerd who is somehow familiar with hip-hop slang -- and nobody can make that character as funny as Levy does. And Pyle attacks her embarrassing role with reckless abandon -- her battle with Latifah in a country club bathroom could qualify for Best Fight at the MTV Movie Awards. In fact, I haven't seen a funnier image this year than Latifah hanging Pyle on a door hook and leaving her there.

(Released by Touchstone Pictures and rated "PG-13" for language, sexual humor and drug material.)

Review also posted on www.windowtothemovies.com.