Matt Damon returns to his defining role in this passable reboot of the Bourne franchise
Movie Review: Big Mommas: Like Father, Like Son
Do you find fat black women funny? Read on!
Bizarrely it appears many disagree. This is Lawrence’s third outing as FBI agent Malcolm Turner and the sequel to two mega grossing films: 2000’s Big Momma’s House and Big Momma’s House 2. This time round it’s the same joke – Lawrence/Turner goes undercover by pulling on the fat suit and becoming the titular Big Momma – but told with more gusto – he’s now joined by his fellow fat suit sporting son Trent (played by U.S. comedian Brandon T. Jackson), meaning you get two Big Momma’s for the price of one. I return to my aforementioned weary knuckles: it still isn’t funny.
Perhaps the success of Lawrence’s series says something about American culture, about the nation’s issues with body dysmorphia, that age-old comedic response to laugh when you’re afraid. Or perhaps I’m just a prude. Maybe there’s something I’m missing and that fat black women are actually the comedic Holy Grail, a particularly U.S. riposte to a man falling through the door of a bar. Hang on a second while I go Google some fat black women: Aretha Franklin… no, it’s not doing anything for me. Mo'Nique... well she's sorta funny, but not because of the dimensions of her body. 50 Cent… no, he’s actually a man. I’m still not getting it: I still don’t understand what’s funny.
That said, Big Momma’s 3 isn’t offensive. It isn’t an unkind portrayal of obesity and its themes are light and carefree. But it’s still dreadfully unfunny. If you find fat black women hilarious, you will enjoy it (and that’s a quote its creators are welcome to for the DVD release). If you don’t you won’t. Simples, eh? But my assessment is this: like the first two outings the film is vacuum of sense and reasoned humour, and contains little for developed minds. Which brings my fingers to this review’s weary parting line: Big Momma’s: Like Father, Like Son… well… it’s a drag.
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