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Taraji P. Henson, Mary J. Blige and Adan RodriguezGrade: C+
In Tyler Perry’s I Can Do Bad All by Myself, Perry has his moviemaking machine running smoothly, which is to say somewhat predictably. But two of the film’s stars fashion attention-getting performances amid the formulaic goings-on, one of them a young newcomer and the other a household name.
The newcomer is Hope Olaidé Wilson, who is wonderfully convincing as Jennifer, a sullen, angry 16-year-old who, with two younger brothers (Freddy Siglar and Kwesi Boakye), has the bad judgment to break into the home inhabited by Perry’s outlandish Madea character.
For the uninitiated, Perry, who is neither old nor female, has made a closet industry out of playing an irascible grandmother, a caricature that doesn’t help the cause of eliminating black stereotypes but, doggone it, can be hilarious. (A stage version of I Can Do Bad introduced the character a decade ago.
In one of this film’s high points, Madea tries to tell Jennifer the inspirational story of the time Jesus walked on water; before she’s through, practically every major name from the Old and New Testaments has made it into the convoluted tale, along with assorted pop-culture references.
Madea also has some very funny scenes with the three juvenile delinquents collectively, trying to scare them straight with ridiculous threats reminiscent of Bernie Mac’s television character. But at heart I Can Do Bad is no comedy; it’s a drama (except when it veers into melodrama, which is often).
Madea delivers the three children to their only available relative, an aunt named April (Taraji P. Henson), who doesn’t want them and tells them so. April is a woman-gone-wrong catchall: smokes, drinks too much, sleeps with a married man, thinks of nothing but her own needs.
The movie is about April’s inevitable redemption, which is aided by a Hispanic handyman (Adam Rodriguez) and a concerned acquaintance named Wilma, played beautifully by the aforementioned household name, Gladys Knight.
Knight and two other great singers Perry has slipped into the cast, Mary J. Blige and Marvin L. Winans, are perfectly credible actors, but of course Perry doesn’t let their voices go to waste. His plot includes scenes in a nightclub and in the church where Winans’s character preaches. That gives him an excuse to feature their musical talents in full-length songs, knockout numbers delivered by pros.
Perry, who also wrote and directed the film, becomes mired in clichés when the movie turns to its capital-L subjects, Love and Loss. And — no surprise here — he goes on two or three tear-jerks too long and passes up an opportunity for a nice, understated ending in favor of a gaudy, obvious one. Restraint, though, is hardly what fans of the Madea franchise are after.
In Tyler Perry’s I Can Do Bad All by Myself, Perry has his moviemaking machine running smoothly, which is to say somewhat predictably. But two of the film’s stars fashion attention-getting performances amid the formulaic goings-on, one of them a young newcomer and the other a household name.
The newcomer is Hope Olaidé Wilson, who is wonderfully convincing as Jennifer, a sullen, angry 16-year-old who, with two younger brothers (Freddy Siglar and Kwesi Boakye), has the bad judgment to break into the home inhabited by Perry’s outlandish Madea character.
For the uninitiated, Perry, who is neither old nor female, has made a closet industry out of playing an irascible grandmother, a caricature that doesn’t help the cause of eliminating black stereotypes but, doggone it, can be hilarious. (A stage version of I Can Do Bad introduced the character a decade ago.
In one of this film’s high points, Madea tries to tell Jennifer the inspirational story of the time Jesus walked on water; before she’s through, practically every major name from the Old and New Testaments has made it into the convoluted tale, along with assorted pop-culture references.
Madea also has some very funny scenes with the three juvenile delinquents collectively, trying to scare them straight with ridiculous threats reminiscent of Bernie Mac’s television character. But at heart I Can Do Bad is no comedy; it’s a drama (except when it veers into melodrama, which is often).
Madea delivers the three children to their only available relative, an aunt named April (Taraji P. Henson), who doesn’t want them and tells them so. April is a woman-gone-wrong catchall: smokes, drinks too much, sleeps with a married man, thinks of nothing but her own needs.
The movie is about April’s inevitable redemption, which is aided by a Hispanic handyman (Adam Rodriguez) and a concerned acquaintance named Wilma, played beautifully by the aforementioned household name, Gladys Knight.
Knight and two other great singers Perry has slipped into the cast, Mary J. Blige and Marvin L. Winans, are perfectly credible actors, but of course Perry doesn’t let their voices go to waste. His plot includes scenes in a nightclub and in the church where Winans’s character preaches. That gives him an excuse to feature their musical talents in full-length songs, knockout numbers delivered by pros.
Perry, who also wrote and directed the film, becomes mired in clichés when the movie turns to its capital-L subjects, Love and Loss. And — no surprise here — he goes on two or three tear-jerks too long and passes up an opportunity for a nice, understated ending in favor of a gaudy, obvious one. Restraint, though, is hardly what fans of the Madea franchise are after.
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