|Bastardizing an Actual Movie...|
You make black people dumber one stupid movie at a time. You are the anti Christ of Black Cinema and there isn't a spot in hell hot enough for you. If, we take all of your ridiculous movies and burn them, maybe just maybe that spot may be fitting of someone of your "stature" and you may take Rihanna's seat at Satan's right hand.
|Hey Fellas...Like My BIG Gun?|
A woman, a home maker who is timid, weak, pathetic and miserable, is married to a bald dark skinned lawyer, doctor, or something high profile, who is abusive and is of course cheating.
|Am I The Husband or the Brother?|
Madea wants to shoot the husband, but the wife is too dignified. She finds out she won't get anything in the divorce and distraught she tells Madea who just so happens to have a light skinned gardener named Ahmad or Omar who just got out of prison, but with chiseled abs standing right outside the door.
Omar isn't a typical gardener, he went to Brown, loves poetry, went to prison for white collar crime or some other petty crime, but has changed his ways. The sexual tension grows...The dark skinned husband becomes ill, the wife has to care for him and sort out her feelings. The husband finds out that the mistress stole all his money and that he was taken advantage of. Omar has fallen in love with the wife and the wife has fallen in love with Omar, but she just hasn't realized it yet.
|Why Am I Here?|
For some reason, they all end up in church, not seated together of course...the fat light skinned chick that's in all the plays and the movies sings some gospel song that's supposed to evoke deep spiritual emotions but it comes off as a rip off of Mahalia Jackson in Imitation of Life, (like this is an imitation movie), and the husband slowly stands from either his seat or wheelchair and stumbles to the altar. He tearfully repents of all his sins and apologizes to his wife. Omar believes that he has no chance with the wife and decides to take his bent up pick up truck and move to another other city in hearbreak.
The wife hears about this and after being cheered on by Madea to, "go get yo man", she tracks him down in a coffee shop, he picks her up, his abs flexing and they ride off in the dusty pickup truck to live happily ever after.
|The Movie Going Public Keeps Dumber & Dumber|
Black people...stop blaming Hollywood for not producing good black movies. Tyler Perry is NOT the voice for Black America. He makes us look as idiotic as an In Living Color skit, minus the humor. You can put the blame squarely on yourselves for supporting the crap like Norbit, all the Madea movies, all Eddie Murphy movies, any movie with a black man dressing in drag or a bunch of black whores (male or female), talking about being whores, doing whorish things. It's sad when Baby Boy or Barbershop is considered a cinematic masterpiece but people have never seen Schindler's List (an actual cinematic achievement). If we stop watching the same redundant piece of crap, maybe Hollywood would stop pandering to us. What am I saying?
You Mr. Perry are the product of bad acting, low budget movies, laughable scripts and a loyal following that is too lazy to care about an actual story. Your movies are so simplistic and Madea is a one trick pony and that trick is played the hell out. Your movies are the kind of movies that I would only purchase off the bootleg guy that sells out of his car at the gas station or the hair salon, and after watching 5 minutes I would try to find the bootlegger to get a refund. The actual DVD is worth more than the movie itself or if it were free, I would still feel as if I paid too much. If most critics say your entire body of work is trash, tell me what is the common denominator? All the critics random hatred or your work being godawful? Predictable plots, if you can call them plots, the same tiring black stereotypes in every boring movie. Why can't you write a black sci-fi or horror movie? Is it because one of your abortions encompass all genre's. Sci-fi for the terrible drag, and horror for the acting, the plot and the endless sermonizing.
|This Crap Stopped Being Funny When Eddie Murphy Did This Back in the 90's|
Every trailer, promotional movie poster, interview about a movie that you are producing, I convulse in disgust at the phuckery that will be released on the world. Hollywood has officially run out of ideas. I'm your target demographic and my intelligence is insulted by watching the same substandard movie over and over, which is just an adaptation of a play that you already wrote years ago, how original... Every movie of yours should come with a warning:
This p.o.s. will burn your soul, watch at your own risk.