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The movie stars the stocky rapper as Calvin, the owner of a barbershop in Chicago that's been passed down through each generation of his family. Unfortunately, the business isn't doing well, and Calvin is always looking for ways to get out. But the barbershop is, as one character puts it, a "country club" for the black neighbourhood -- people come in to talk or hang out, others got their first jobs there, while some customers have received free haircuts over the years.
When a local loan shark (the seedily magnificent Keith David, who chews the scenery and spits it out) offers $20,000 to buy the barbershop, Calvin can't resist. It's only when he realizes how much the shop means to the community, to his employees and, ultimately, to himself, that he tries to raise the money to get it back -- easier said than done.
There are several other subplots, including one involving a pair of bumbling crooks (Anthony Anderson and Lahmard Tate) who steal an ATM machine; another that squares off a college student/barber (Sean Patrick Thomas) against the streetwise, white barber (Troy Garity); and another featuring Ricky (Michael Ealy, in the movie's best performance), a young haircutter who's trying to stay clean, although he has two strikes against him.
The producers have wisely surrounded Ice Cube -- who has one of the meanest glowers in the business, but still isn't the most natural actor -- with a solid cast, including R&B star Eve as the fierce Terri, who's sick of her cheating boyfriend; Jazsmin Lewis as Jennifer, Calvin's pregnant wife and conscience; and Cedric The Entertainer as Eddie, a loud, boisterous veteran barber who serves as this generation's link to the past.
Sometimes, Barbershop has so many characters and so many things going on that the narrative rhythm gets disjointed. But even this isn't such a bad thing -- like Spike Lee's masterpiece, Do The Right Thing, you get to know everybody gradually, get to understand the pace of their lives and the role everybody plays in the neighbourhood.
And for every low joke or bit of slapstick, you get a refreshingly positive view of African-American life. Unlike, say, The Wash, the film doesn't revel in the stupidity or abject criminality of its lowlife characters.
Barbershop really is a cut above, and not just because of the good writing, acting and directing. It excels because, unlike so many other Hollywood movies of its ilk, it offers hope.
(This film is rated PG)