Diary of a Mad Black Woman
By LESLIE GRAY STREETER
Palm Beach Post
Group participation during a movie is usually frowned upon, except for horror movies ("Girl, don't go in there! He's got a machete!") or The Rocky Horror Picture Show ("Girl, did I just get hit by a roll of toilet paper?")
I once went to a midnight Rocky Horror showing, all psyched up by those line-screaming fans who affirmed that it was the most awesome thing ever. Maybe I'm just not awesome enough, but the fun in this eludes me. A lot. (Note to Rocky Horror devotees: Please don't stand by my window at 3 a.m. and sing The Time Warp in retaliation. I know people.)
I much preferred the interaction at the screening of Diary of a Mad Black Woman, writer Tyler Perry's comedy/morality lesson/feature-length In Living Color-esque skit.
Lions Gate Films
|
Based on Perry's play about a scorned society wife and her road to redemption, forgiveness and the love of a fine, fine man, Black Woman inspired much witty running commentary — from the ladies sitting next to us informing on-screen heroine Helen (Kimberly Elise) that her husband was a dog, or the guy behind us pointing out which scenes were going to be difficult for the brothers to live down.
I know there are people who just can't stand talking in the movies, and they should avoid Diary at all costs, because it exists pretty much to get people "Uh-huh"-ing and "That's right"-ing, much like a traditional black Baptist service does (Let the theater say "Amen.")
Diary follows the struggles of Atlanta society wife Helen, whose maggot-hearted lawyer husband, Charles (The Practice's Steve Harris), literally drags her out of the ridiculously huge mansion they share — on their anniversary, no less. That's because he's moving his skanky mistress (Lisa Marcos) and their two kids in.
The audience was ready to string the sucker up, let me tell you. And being allowed — no, encouraged — to yell "Girl, he's a weasel!" right out loud was cathartic. Try it! It's cheaper than therapy.
Anyway, Helen moves back to the 'hood to reunite with the family she discarded on her way to McMansionland — sassy grandmother Madea (writer Perry in drag), nasty uncle Joe (Perry again, in old-man makeup), sweet cousin Brian (Perry just looking like himself) and junkie cousin Debra (Tamara Taylor, not Perry. But you thought that's what I was gonna say, right?)
She also reconnects with her religion and finds a good-looking, down-to-earth Christian man (doe-eyed soap hottie Shemar Moore) in the process.
That's right! God — not just for homely people in movies anymore!
Perry's plays, with their blend of broad dramedy, Christian principles and the odd flatulence or pot joke thrown in, are popular destinations of church groups, meaning they're music-filled, full of platitudes and not subtle.
I'd never seen Perry's plays before, but the ones I've seen in that genre are rousing, crude and not all that good.
That's why Diary was something of a surprise. Sure, it's got its share of gross humor (do masturbation jokes about Vaseline play that well during Sunday school?) and a mess of ham-handed dialogue by Perry that sounds like it was taken off an inspirational plate hanging in your Mama's kitchen.
But there's a fair amount of cleverness tossed in — there's a sly, sublime Bobby Brown joke that's almost worth the nasty Vaseline joke. The actors are mostly better than the material, particularly Elise, who was last in The Manchurian Candidate.
What I liked most about it was its earnestness, and its fervent, if clumsily handled, message that any ills can be cured by God, the warm embrace of family, plus home cooking and a fine, fine man.
Maybe that seems simplistic, and maybe it's something every viewer won't hold to, although I'm imagining that the movie's audience will be the same as the play's.
But whether or not you like that, it's an alternative from the usual movie solutions, which include sex, drinking, an expensive makeover or shooting your enemies with a bazooka.
It's not great. But it's a good time, with a good message. I still really hate the Vaseline joke. But you can't have everything.
|
