Review of Madea's Family Reunion (2006) by Markb. — 09 Apr 2006

Lions Gate (excuse me, Lionsgate) has got to be the smartest, most market-savvy studio currently operating in Hollywood! Never mind that their relentless, under-the-radar stealth campaign for Crash impressed the Motion Picture Academy more than the somewhat strident and arrogant "this is a cultural phenomenon, and therefore your ONLY viable choice, dammit" psuedo-strategy employed by Focus Features for Brokeback Mountain.

(I would've been happy with EITHER movie taking home the big prize.) These guys also knew that the time was right in fall 2004 for a truly "hard-R" horror movie (Saw, which started not only its own franchise but a profitable if regrettable new trend); they grabbed onto a seeming hot potato of a documentary that they realized had great appeal to 49% of the voting public (Fahrenheit 9/11); and with just two Number One movies they transformed a playwright/actor that much of the moviegoing public had never even heard of 18 months ago into one of the few writers whose name alone, like Stephen King's SOMETIMES is, into a real box office draw.

As he did with last year's Diary of a Mad Black Woman, Tyler Perry once again gives us a rambunctious, hugely entertaining (and, if you're not a fan, highly schizophrenic) tossed salad of soap opera melodramatics, social commentary, swoony romance, Sunday sermon, African-American wake-up call, and low comedy, with Perry himself providing much of the latter in front of the camera as ne'er-do-well Joe (a distant spiritual cousin to Fred Sanford) and no-nonsense matriarch Madea.

Some viewers find Perry's clashing tones jarring and unwatchable; I find his sheer unpredictability bracing and exhiliarating. Where else can you see a movie that gives you in one big package a searing family drama involving rape and incest, a deliciously down-and-dirty conversation between the two villains (played by Lynn Whitfield and Blair Underwood like neither has had so much fun in front of a camera ever at any time) that without the Freudian undertones could've come out of a 1947 Joan Crawford movie, a serious address to the Black community delivered by Maya Angelou and Cicely Tyson, and a bunch of fart jokes? To paraphrase Sally Field, this is the cinematic equivalent of the box of chocolates Forrest Gump was talking about! (My only reservation in this category--and maybe this is a cultural thing--is that I felt uncomfortable watching Perry rightly denounce spousal abuse one moment and then present the whipping of a child to within an inch of her life as the best way to get her to clean up her act the next.

) Perry's first outing as a movie director is a surprisingly assured and successful one: he reveals a shocking truth about a major character skillfully and to maximum effect, and I enjoyed his not-exactly-subtle but not-quite-heavyhanded use of colors to suggest and sustain mood: fiery, dangerous reds in scenes involving a deceitful, manipulative mother; warm browns and other earth tones in Madea's household; ethereal whites and blues in a wedding sequence.

Perry's work is expanding beyond the African-American audiences that previously made up nearly his entire fan base not only owing to his skill as a very effective, entertaining storyteller, but also because Madea herself is one of those universally recognizable characters that everyone either knows or would sure like to.