Acrimony

I’m not sure how to sum up Tyler Perry.  As an actor, he seems mostly as good as his director – hence his solid turn in David Fincher’s Gone Girl – but, unfortunately for him, he tends to direct himself a lot.  Behind the camera, he’s much more miss than hit, with films like The Single Moms Club and A Madea Christmas showcasing some poor acting, poor writing, sloppy camera work and editing, and a merely tenuous grasp of the general filmmaking process.  I remember my slightly ironic glee when first seeing the trailer for Acrimony, thinking it would at least be as entertainingly inept as, say, Boo! A Madea Halloween.  I was wrong, but not necessarily in the obvious way.

In terms of structure, Acrimony is very similar to Temptation, with the bulk of the main narrative being related to a psychologist.  We see that Taraji P. Henson is maniacally pissed off at her ex, and we’re led to believe that she’s telling us how she came to be in such a state.  That’s really only half true.  She dictates how they met in college, showing us that even then, before the relationship, she could be truly hot-tempered with little to no cause.  Still, they grow together, until she catches him cheating on her.  She, somewhat understandably, freaks out, and then proceeds to take things too far while clouded by rage.  Nonetheless, they stay together, and she leads us to believe it’s because of his silver tongue, that deceitful devil.  Her sisters are also shown to be immediately and consistently against this guy, all for no real reason.  Insert years of disappointment and suspicions of infidelity, and you could potentially see how our girl could come across so malicious now.

Only, no you can’t.  This film is kinda two films in one, the first taking up the first half or two-third of the runtime and focusing on a decaying marriage, melodrama and all, and the second finishing things out and looking like a bad Fatal Attraction ripoff.  We’re given a title card early on (complete with an unnecessary dictionary definition of “acrimony”), and then, right when things turn, we’re periodically given a handful more, each one needlessly defining the, I dunno, chapter titles or whatever.  Apparently, once we’re clear on things, we need to change the film up a bit.

And that’s the real issue here:  Though this film likely represents one of the tightest directorial efforts from Perry, mostly free of his usual missteps, it’s startlingly clear that he does not know how to tell a fully cohesive story.  We spend so much time in the initial portion that we figure what Henson’s relating to us is indeed factual, or, at least, that we should be sympathizing with her.  All along, we’re shown things from her ex’s perspective, things she couldn’t have known about, and, moreover, all of them pretty much show that Henson’s in the wrong the whole time.  Sure, he’s made some mistakes in terms of monomaniacally pursuing his dream job (he’s a mechanical engineer who’s designed a revolutionary battery, y’see) and just putting himself in a position in which he could be seen as shady, but we, the audience, pretty much know he’s legit.  Then, suddenly, the glacial pacing ramps up a bit, and we find ourselves in a different movie with a different tone.  At first, things are dour, reflecting Henson’s disappointment and whatnot, but then, when we get into crazy territory, things come faster at us, and the tone takes on a distinctively campy flavor.  Hell, the final scenes, where Henson mostly just erupts at her ex and his new flame (incidentally, the same girl he screwed around with earlier, the madman), are more comical than anything, likely contrary to Perry’s vision of what I assume to be a tragic descent into madness.  Unfortunately, his tone shifting and pacing issues have muddied the waters so much that it’s hard to take anything we’re shown seriously.

That being said, Henson does generally do a damn fine job at portraying a woman with a fraying mind.  Her rage and vindictiveness is palpable, and you certainly believe she could tear that man apart at any moment, even through only a particularly venomous glare.  Still, possibly owing to her director, she occasionally goes too far and winds up sounding like a cheesy soap opera villain, and ultimately the film’s tone precludes her being taken as a true cinematic loon in the tradition of Fatal Attraction and Ingrid Goes West.

Worse, there’s a strange air of casual misogyny surrounding the whole story.  Sure, crazy chicks have always been present in film, but you didn’t get a sense that Glenn Close didn’t at least have a point when she went after Michael Douglas, even if she obviously took things too far.  Here, Henson is clearly nuts, but she’s not alone in looking so: her sisters, especially Ptosha Storey’s Brenda, are needlessly bitchy throughout, both to Henson’s man and to her; Henson’s college roommate and apparently sole friend is painted as a naive dolt for believing in the relationship for so long; and the new fiancee bears the marks of an opportunistic carrion bird when she isn’t a nigh-infantilized deer caught in Henson’s manic headlights.  Meanwhile, Robert, the hitherto unnamed central man, is unceasingly caring and innocent, even if a tad clueless when it comes to his marriage.  The sisters’ husbands are even-tempered and willing to help out when needed, even when things aren’t going their way.  Hell, even Henson’s rebound man is drawn rather positively, his lone failing being his inability to match Robert’s sexual acumen (ain’t Robert kinda great, guys?).  All of the men are good souls, and the women are either vindictive bitches or naive plot statues.  This wouldn’t be the first time Perry set out to ostensibly give women strong roles only to have the men serve as the true paragons of virtue and goodness, with The Single Moms Club the most obvious previous example, but it’s a strangely clear message by the time the credits begin to roll.  Just remember guys: screw up once, you’re tainted by the crazy women of the world, who treat everyone, including each other (and family!) like dirt, unless you show them the time of their lives.  Real progressive there, Tyler.

In the end, though, it’s the poor pacing and uneven nature of the film that ultimately sink it before the problematic gender messages are allowed to permeate your skull.  It’s a fine enough knock-off of better-done films, kinda the made-for-TV equivalent of them, and Henson doesn’t hold back, but there isn’t much here to deserve any of your time.  It may not have been gloriously bad like his past films, but Tyler Perry still knows how to disappoint something fierce.