Cast: Martin Lawrence, Nia Long, Paul Giamatti, Terrence Howard, Ella Mitchell, Jascha Washington, Anthony Anderson
Director: Raja Gosnell
Producers: David T. Friendly, Michael Green
Screenplay: Darryl Quarles and Don Rhymer
Cinematography: Michael D. O'Shea
Music: Richard Gibbs
U.S. Distributor: 20th Century Fox
It doesn't take much ingenuity to imagine the pitch meeting for Big Momma's House: one of the filmmakers is pleading his or her case that, if Mrs. Doubtfire and The Nutty Professor made money, this one couldn't possibly fail. After all, the movie doesn't just have a man dressed up as an elderly woman, or a thin actor playing a gargantuan man, but a guy in costume as an old lady with enormous girth. Never mind that Martin Lawrence doesn't quite have the star power of Robin Williams or Eddie Murphy - he'll be encased in latex for most of the movie, so, at least in theory, no one will be able to recognize him anyway.
Apparently, the filmmakers put so much effort into developing the Big Momma costume that they forgot about every other element of the movie: script, direction, acting, jokes - insignificant things like those. In both conception and execution, this movie is a disaster and an embarrassment - on its own terms, it's as big a failure as Battlefield Earth, and this time there are no Scientologists to blame. Comedies are supposed to be funny, but rarely does a picture emerge with so many stillborn jokes. I sat through all 97 minutes of this movie without once laughing, chuckling, or even smiling.
There's a reason for my stone-faced reaction: the "humor" (if it can be called that) in Big Momma's House is aimed at gutter-minded, eight year-old boys - perhaps the most undiscriminating group of movie-goers available. Comedy is all about freshness and spontaneity -- two aspects conspicuous by their absence. Almost everyone chuckles the first time they hear the "Take my wife...please" line (provided it's delivered properly). But, by the third or fourth time, the amusement value is gone. Every laugh in Big Momma's House is like that - recycled, pre-programmed, and predictable. How can a moment be funny when you see it coming and know exactly how it's going to play out? The film's lone surprise is a "boo!" moment that will provoke shrieks, not guffaws.
The derivative, sit-com quality of the screenplay is another impediment. The movie doesn't have a laugh-track, but the rhythms are so familiar that people will probably chortle at all the appropriate moments - not because there's anything funny about them, but because that's what's expected. During the preview screening I attended, there was some laughter, but it all had a hollow, forced ring to it. And, like seemingly every comedy these days, Big Momma's House descends into the arena of bad taste. However, where movies like The Nutty Professor, There's Something About Mary, and American Pie exhibit the audacity and comic timing to milk laughter out of off-color situations, Big Momma's House is simply gross. Here's a quick litmus test: does the idea of hearing a fat woman having diarrhea sound like a lot of fun? Is that the kind of image that piques your interest? If so, you should be first in line when the box office opens on June 2.
The protagonist in Big Momma's House is Malcolm Turner (Lawrence), an FBI agent with a flair for elaborate makeup. After a few establishing scenes, he is sent with his partner, John (Paul Giamatti), on a stake-out to Cartersville, Georgia. Their target is Hallie Mae Pierce (Ella Mitchell), a.k.a. "Big Momma." A convicted killer and bank robber (Terrence Howard, who didn't have to memorize many lines for his part) has escaped from prison and may be going after his ex-girlfriend, Sherry (Nia Long, all sugar and spice and everything nice), who is Big Momma's granddaughter. So, in case Sherry flees back to her roots, Malcolm and John are supposed to watch the old woman's house. However, when she goes away on a trip and Sherry calls to say she's coming, Malcolm decides to put his make-up skills to use and pretend to be Big Momma. Of course, Lawrence in costume doesn't look much like Mitchell, but no one in the movie seems to notice.
Normally in a comedy, it's routine to throw credibility issues out the window. After all, the point of this kind of movie isn't presenting a watertight plot. However, by folding a series of cloying, would-be dramatic elements into the story (including a "touching" romance and a "tender" relationship between a mother and her son), Big Momma's House gives up the right to completely ignore real world issues, and that becomes a serious problem. How can we possibly care about characters who are behaving like morons? I don't expect every character in a movie (especially a comedy) to have a genius-level IQ, but they should exhibit more intelligence than a pet rock.
As a leading man, with or without the padding and makeup, Lawrence is a questionable choice. To date, his box office success has come when he's paired with someone with a bigger name, like Eddie Murphy or Will Smith. He is yet to have a hit going solo, and there's nothing in Big Momma's House to convince me that this will represent a reversal of fortune. By now, most potential viewers know about the misfortune that befell the actor when he was preparing for the role (while jogging to slim down so he could fit more comfortably into the Big Momma suit, he overheated, passed out, and ended up in a coma for several days). Perhaps that will sell a few curiosity tickets. The other three top-billed actors - Long, Giamatti, and Howard - are so bland that they often have difficulty standing out from the scenery. The only one in the cast who shows any hint of comic energy is Anthony Anderson (as the wannabe FBI agent Nolan), but he's only in a handful of scenes.
Dumb comedies can be funny, but only if there's an underlying intelligence behind all the stupidity. There is no evidence of that here. Director Raja Gosnell (fresh from Never Been Kissed), aided by screenwriting accomplices Darryl Quarles and Don Rhymer, consistently insults the audience by assuming that we're as dumb as the lobotomized individuals populating the screen. Just because something is supposed to be funny doesn't mean it is funny, and that's a distinction that was lost on the filmmakers. No matter how desperately you want to laugh, this isn't the outlet. The best way to avoid walking out of Big Momma's House is not to enter in the first place.
© 2000 James Berardinelli