March 30, 2005 | As Chris Rock noted during the recent Oscarcast, location is everything when it comes to comedies aimed primarily at what showbiz trade papers euphemistically describe as "urban audiences." With The Cookout, Barbershop, The Wash and Barbershop 2: Back in Business already released, maybe Rock is right in assuming that Check Cashing Place will be arriving any day now. For the time being, though, we'll have to make do with Beauty Shop, a sunny and sassy trifle that somehow manages to breathe fresh life into familiar stereotypes and stock situations.

Queen Latifah struts her stuff in the lead role of Gina Norris, a character originally introduced in Barbershop 2 as the ex-girlfriend of Chicago barber Calvin Palmer (Ice Cube). Transplanted to Atlanta, where her young daughter Vanessa (Paige Hurd) studies piano at a prestigious music school, Gina starts out as a stylist at a trendy salon run by Jorge Christophe (Kevin Bacon), a haughty Eurotrash poseur with an Austrian accent and an acidic wit. Trouble is, Jorge is sadly lacking in basic people skills. In fact, he's an insufferable egomaniac who views himself as the only superstar in a world of bit players.

Pushed to extremes by Jorge's condescending ways, Gina quits to open her own beauty shop. Even with a hard-won bank loan, however, she can afford only a gone-to-seed salon in an inner-city neighborhood. Even so, she presses forward, determined to renovate the tumble-down building while instilling a new work ethic in her staff of headstrong stylists: free-wheeling Ms. Josephine (Alfre Woodard), chronically pregnant Ida (Sherri Shepherd) and trash-talking Chanel (Golden Brooks).

With a little assist from Lynn (appealingly perky Alicia Silverstone), a semi-ditzy shampoo girl who also fled Jorge's tyranny, and some electrical repair work by Joe (smooth-moving Djimon Hounsou), her hunky upstairs neighbor, Gina gradually makes a go of her new business. It helps, of course, that she convinces two clients from Jorge's salon (Andie MacDowell, Mena Suvari) to frequent her new shop. But it doesn't help at all that Jorge plays dirty while coping with competition.

Taking its cue from other recent sitcom-style movies with predominantly African-American casts, Beauty Shop is episodic and casually constructed, loping from one loosely connected scene to the next while colorful characters swap jokey dialogue in intimate pairings and large assemblies. Conversations tend to be loud and feisty, and involve a great deal of aggressive dissing, jovial confiding and smart-mouthed speculation. Among the running gags: Gossipy female employees repeatedly question whether James (gamely played by Bryce Wilson), the shop's only male stylist, is a closeted gay or a fashionable metrosexual. Sure, I know it sound like something that might come off as borderline-offensive, or worse. But trust me: The pay-off is very funny indeed, and the joke is on the gossips, not the gossiped-about.

Director Bille Woodruff (Honey) maintains an easygoing vibe throughout Beauty Shop by refusing to let anything get too far out of hand. Even Jorge's deliciously fey camping is effectively modulated. Bacon's clearly having the time of his life in the part, but he's shrewd enough to recognize that less truly is more.

Please don't misunderstand: The directorial restraint isn't too restrictive. Many of the supporting players make vivid impressions with hilarious character turns. Woodard, for example, is a full-tilt hoot as a live wire who looks fetching in a leopard-print smock while quoting Maya Angelou's sauciest poetry. And yet, to a satisfyingly large degree, the actors remain in character without drifting unconscionably far into caricature.

Screenwriters Kate Lanier and Norman Vance, Jr. don't completely shy away from the harsh realities of racial tensions in and out of the salon. (It takes a while before Lynn, a bubbly blonde, is accepted by her African-American co-workers.) For most part, though, Beauty Shop is feel-good entertainment that is no less enjoyable for being mostly (though not entirely) predictable. You get the feeling that everyone on screen looked forward to going to the set every day of filming. And their enthusiasm is highly contagious.