Tyler Perry’s Diary of a Mad Black Woman is due to hit the local theatres tomorrow, Feb. 25. “Hit” is a good word to use here. Regardless of whatever is said critically about the phenomenon called “urban theatre” by me or any other so-called culture critic, anything this man touches turns instantly to gold.
Over the last fifteen years, Perry has created a new performance vehicle, found an audience that nobody knew existed and turned out product that every element of the black community, from hip-hop masters and mavens to church deacons and saints, has been more than willing to enthusiastically accept and support.
Here’s the story. Charles McCarter, played by Steve Davis of ABC’s popular courtroom drama The Practice, is an enormously successful Atlanta attorney. He and his beautiful wife, Helen, played by Kimberly Elise, have what appears to be a perfect marriage.
Their huge estate in the suburbs is set off by beautiful clothes and fine cars. They couldn’t be happier. They are envied by all the upwardly mobile and ambitious folks who are driven by appearance and the unlimited accumulation of things material.
On the evening of their eighteenth anniversary, Charles suddenly switches reels and indicates that he is no longer a happy camper. The following day, the McCarter campground turns into a toxic waste dump when Charles tells Helen flat out that she’s got to go. He and Brenda, his baby momma n Charles tells Helen that he has two sons by her n need the crib, now and forever.
Helen is dragged bodily through the house and dumped on the front porch. She is shocked and shattered. Before our eyes, and in less than twenty-four hours, Helen has become homeless, penniless and alone. She begins to pick up the pieces with the help of her mother n played by the honored veteran Cicely Tyson, who is good to see n and her grandmother, played by Perry himself in one of three (!) roles.
Heartbreak is a story that we all know, because we are inundated with it all day, every day. If it hasn’t happened to you personally, then some talking head or shock show host on the TV will be throwing it in your face, momentarily.
Tyler Perry has made a film that deals with the problems that people have had since time immemorial, but haven’t been able to solve without returning to some kind of root culture or psychological base. This puzzle has particularly affected black people, because our families and institutions and coping mechanisms have principallly been developed under seige.
The themes of suffering, betrayal and redemption are not specific to blacks, but let’s just say we spend a lot of our time in the crying game wondering, both personally and collectively, whether we’ll need the proverbial patience of Job for these trials to pass.
The writing is heavy-handed and streotypical in places n the Bobby Brown/Whitney Houston jokes are pretty tired at this point in our dilemma. But the presentation of human problems, improvised problem-solving based in humor, and the deep integrity of family and spirit are valid and timely. There is an interesting reflective quality at certain points in the film that reminds me of what African and West Indian preachers call reasoning.
There are several side stories that I thought could have been abandoned, mostly because they were more a distraction than a revealing addition to the basic theme of the film. The junky mother redeemed by shame (or song or whatever) was unconvincing and has been done to death in black drama.
Tyler Perry might think about delegating some of the energy he put into the multiple roles of roles of Joe, Brian and Madea to a couple of other actors. His assumption of these three roles is admirable, in that he almost pulls them off. But, I think Eddie Murphy set the standard for this type of work in Coming To America, and nobody has come close since that groundbreaking effort.
Shemar Moore (as Orlando) brought a clarity and depth to his role that kept the comic elements of the film from overpowering the more serious questions that are raised (and ultimately answered). He makes the idea of the “second chance” for Helen feel real and possible, even if we might feel that he’s probably to good to be true.
K. Curtis Lyle, a nationally renowned poet and performer, is the culture critic for the American.
