BIG MOMMA'S HOUSE (20th Century Fox) Starring: Martin Lawrence, Nia Long, Paul Giamatti, Jascha Washington, Terrence Howard. Screenplay: Darryl Quarles and Don Rhymer. Producers: David T. Friendly and Michael Green. Director: Raja Gosnell. MPAA Rating: PG-13 (profanity, adult themes, violence) Running Time: 99 minutes. Reviewed by Scott Renshaw.
The plot of BIG MOMMA'S HOUSE is Martin Lawrence in a fat suit and a dress. That's not just the high-concept premise; it's the fully-realized, all-encompassing plot. Such an emphasis is not unheard-of in the world of Hollywood summer entertainment. One need merely look back to last summer, when the plot of BIG DADDY was Adam Sandler being an incompetent surrogate parent. The trap inherent in such an approach is that the high-concept plot idea better be pretty well-realized, or rest on the shoulders of an extremely talented performer, because you can bet there will be nothing else worth a second of your time -- not a developed character, not a provocative theme, not a witty twist. You will get 90-plus minutes of Martin Lawrence in a fat suit and a dress -- nothing more, nothing less.
Those who find Martin Lawrence more than an occasionally amusing screen presence may have a shot at enjoying the one-note dud that is BIG MOMMA'S HOUSE. Others will simply stare, mouth agape, at its sheer unapologetic laziness. Lawrence plays FBI agent Malcolm Turner, an undercover expert on a stakeout assignment with his partner John (Paul Giamatti). Dangerous convicted bank robber and murderer Lester Vesco (Terrence Howard) has escaped from prison, and the Feds think he's headed for his former girlfriend and presumed-but-never-proved accomplice Sherry (Nia Long). Sherry, however, has fled with her son Trent (Jascha Washington), possibly to visit her grandmother Hattie Mae (Ella Mitchell), better known as Big Momma. Indeed, Sherry appears to be on her way, but Big Momma is headed out of town without knowing Sherry is coming. That leaves master of disguise Malcolm to go under very heavy cover as Big Momma and find out what Sherry knows.
BIG MOMMA'S HOUSE's bloodlines are certainly traceable to MRS. DOUBTFIRE -- director Raja Gosnell edited that film, and the makeup effects were similarly created by Greg Cannom -- but there's just as strong a whiff of TOOTSIE in the main character's attempt to use his alternate identity to get closer to a woman. Unfortunately, BIG MOMMA'S HOUSE makes a ridiculous decision neither of those other films made: Instead of having the protagonist pose as a completely manufactured character unfamiliar to anyone elses, it places Malcolm in the position of playing a friend and family member to several other characters. Suspension of disbelief in BIG MOMMA'S HOUSE requires you to believe every other person in the film is blind and/or stupid, since no one notices that one Big Momma looks or sounds absolutely nothing like the other.
Of course, laughs trumps logic every time, and BIG MOMMA'S HOUSE probably still would have worked in spite of its utter disdain for common sense if it had just managed to be funny. And it misses its best possible opportunity for some great farce by ignoring the simple fact that the real Big Momma is set up as a foul-tempered beast, while Malcolm has to be nurturing in order to get the information he wants out of Sherry. Unfortunately, no one involved appears to have the faintest idea how to deal with the comic gold mine involved in one real person pretending to be another, very different real person, so they fall back on an endless parade of sight gags: Malcolm reacting violently to Big Momma's explosive diarrhea attack; Malcolm-as-Momma schooling a pair of cocky teens in basketball; Malcolm trying to avoid detection as various prostheses give way at inopportune moments; Malcolm delivering a baby because Big Momma is the town midwife (one of the few sequences that works). Martin Lawrence can be likeable enough at times, but there's no reason to care a whit about his budding romance with Sherry because Malcolm is never an independently significant character. He's just Big Momma without the makeup on.
I won't waste time commenting on how ineptly the set-up of the escaped convict is employed, since it was clearly a waste of time to the film-makers. There are a few token scenes of Lester looming as a threatening figure, but he's ultimately a distraction in a film that's really about its central visual incongruity (and the accompanying lascivious glances at Nia Long's posterior). I'm never prepared to underestimate how appealing that idea may be to other people -- several million of them apparently found Adam Sandler as an incompetent surrogate parent appealing -- but I know that when a film-maker tries to throw a concept at me and pretend that it's an entire film, I duck out of the way. The gross implausibility of BIG MOMMA'S HOUSE might have been tolerable if it was seasoned with more big, cleverly-constructed laughs. Its lack of big laughs might have been tolerable if its characters were at all relevant. BIG MOMMA'S HOUSE is ridiculous _and_ not funny. It's just a sad exercise in the jaded presumption that any scene should be considered wacky and hilarious if it involves Martin Lawrence in a fat suit and a dress.
On the Renshaw scale of 0 to 10 latex condemnations: 3.
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