I Can Do Bad All By Myself (2009)

I must confess, I had never seen anything created by Tyler Perry prior to seeing his latest film, I Can Do Bad All By Myself. I’m well aware of his background as a self-styled theatrical impresario — I’ve seen commercials for touring productions of his stage plays for many years, I know he’s made a series of moderately successful films featuring his iconic “drag” character Madea, and I know he produces a popular television sitcom. However, I generally fall outside of Mr. Perry’s target demographics, so to speak, so seeing his work was never a high priority. Yet one of the appealing aspects of my job as a film critic is the opportunity to check out movies I may not otherwise have considered seeing. It’s a risk, but it’s one you take every time you buy a ticket. I like to break out of that “comfort zone” of mine every so often, and I also like to walk into a movie with as much of a “blank slate” as possible. This movie fit both of those criteria.

So I sat in a sold-out theater on opening night of this film, and what I experienced was not especially risky in terms of story, camera work, editing, or directorial style — a couple of sequences stretch out too long, the visual symbolism is broadly obvious at times, and some plot developments are easily predictable. What I DID experience, however, was a rollicking piece of entertainment that had the audience — myself included — howling with laughter one moment, choking back tears the next, and enjoying some incredibly soulful musical performances from Perry’s top-flight cast.

If Tyler Perry lacks the flashy visual style and intricate script construction of many Hollywood writers and directors (at least on the basis of this only film of his that I’ve seen), he makes up for it with his eye for terrific casting, his ear for sharp dialogue, and his heart for relatable characters. Having only seen photos and very brief scenes of Madea before this movie, I expected a wildly farcical character, as men playing women have tended to be throughout much of theatrical history. Indeed Madea is “larger than life” in many respects, but what surprised me was how incisively funny she was with her rapid-fire line delivery, gestures, and facial expressions. Perry doesn’t attempt to use a falsetto or overly feminine voice as Madea, and that’s a very smart acting choice; we laugh because she IS funny, not just because she sounds funny. In fact, I missed large chunks of her dialogue at times because everyone was laughing so much, and I was so amused by Perry’s performance that I didn’t even realize until the closing credits that he also plays Madea’s husband Joe, who is just as hilarious a character. His mourning over his broken VCR (that he’d had since 1973! When Otis Redding came by!!) had me busting a gut laughing.

Joe and Madea kick off the movie when they catch three young kids — sullen teenager Jennifer (Hope Olaide Wilson) and her younger brothers Manny (Kwesi Boakye) and Byron (Frederick Siglar) — burglarizing their house trying to steal Joe’s beloved VCR. Madea feeds them and interrogates them simultaneously, and discovers their mother is long dead and they haven’t seen their grandmother in four days. Madea brings them to the doorstep of their aunt, April (Taraji P. Henson), a selfish nightclub singer who doesn’t want kids getting in the way of her affair with a thug-like married man (Brian White) who “pays her bills.” She reluctantly and resentfully allows the kids to stay with her until their grandmother — her estranged mother — reappears. April gives a similar back-handed welcome to a homeless Hispanic handyman (Adam Rodriguez) sent over by the pastor (Marvin Winans) and a member (Gladys Knight) of the local church, which is just a little bit too conveniently close to April’s house. But April carries a lot of emotional baggage, and even her only friend, bartender and fellow performer Tanya (Mary J. Blige), can’t implore her enough to let go of her haunted past and miserable present, and change her life.

The characters of Madea and Joe disappear as the drama and music take over, and that’s disappointing because I hoped they would reappear for a stronger payoff to the somewhat abrupt conclusion. But when Perry disappears from the front of the camera, his presence is still evident in his witty yet believable screenplay and the honest, committed performances he directs from his actors. Taraji P. Henson is beautiful to look at, plays her comic moments as easily as her more emotional turns, and belts out Aretha Franklin’s “Rock Steady” in the opening scene while wearing an Afro that would make Angela Davis blush. Gladys Knight gets a number to prove that after a career spanning over 40 years, she still has a lovely voice and is a living legend of soul music. (And I still fantasize about being one of her Pips.) Mary J. Blige knocks the title song right outta the park, and Marvin Winans gets to bring some smooth and deeply soulful gospel. On the nonmusical side of the cast, extra special attention should be paid to young Hope Olaide Wilson, who is heartbreakingly terrific as the struggling Jennifer, a great performance by a promising, talented young actress.

I Can Do Bad All By Myself obviously carries a Christian tone and message, which may not be to every moviegoer’s preference. Then again, horror movies often revel in Satanic and occult imagery, and that’s not necessarily everyone’s cup of tea, either. Tyler Perry is a very savvy creative artist because he knows his audience and knows them very well. He delivers sympathetic and slightly stereotypical characters, believable tear-jerking scenes, a few old-fashioned musical numbers, preaching without getting TOO preachy, a couple of crowd-pleasing cheer moments, a positive and uplifting message, and comedic dialogue that is raucous without getting risqué. Perry orchestrates all those elements in just the right way so his audience and fanbase will eat it up. And I did, during this memorable collective moviegoing experience. I guess I’m in Tyler Perry’s target demographic after all.