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My friend Garth, after seeing Martin Lawrence's new movie Big Momma's House, sarcastically asked, "Did anyone direct that?" A ninth-grade student of mine, in a similar situation, raved, "That was so funny I'm going to see it again tonight." While it might seem impossible to reconcile those viewpoints, I am in the strange situation of agreeing with both.

Big Momma's House focuses on Malcolm (Lawrence,  Blue Streak), an FBI agent with a fondness for karate and realistic masks. He and his partner John (Paul Giamatti, Private Parts), a nerdy but good-natured white guy, are sent to the proverbial small southern town in the hopes of catching a hardened criminal. Their hope is to trick his former girlfriend Sherry (played by Nia Long, The Best Man) into disclosing his location. To do that, however, Malcolm has to disguise himself as her corpulent grandmother in order to win Sherry's trust. It goes without saying that cross-dressing hijinks ensue.

If you're an intelligent person and if you've seen this movie's ancestors (Mrs. Doubtfire, The Nutty Professor), you can pretty much guess what's going to happen. We have the scene in which Malcolm, trying to make dinner for Sherry and her son, almost sets the kitchen on fire. There's an old gentleman with the hots for Big Momma whom Malcolm has to rebuff. We've got Malcolm trying to deliver a baby, as the world screams around him. And then Malcolm is called upon to testify in church, as the choir sings "Oh Happy Day" behind him.

Though each of these scenes and others are as predictable as the sun's daily rise, many of them are genuinely hilarious. The baby sequence is particularly funny, as Malcolm implores everyone to scream along with him as he uses an oven mitt and Crisco to deliver the child. When he gives the elderly suitor some dating tips, his manly advice delivered in a high squeaking voice is nicely incongruous.

The real key to the movie's humor is Lawrence's facial expressions and sharp dialogue. Though encased in an enormous mask, he's still able to communicate volumes with a raised eyebrow or a cheeky grin. At other times, the laughs arise from the sexually suggestive remarks Big Momma casts off. In lesser hands, such moments would be crude, but Lawrence has a charm and good nature that helps him get away with it. Many of the flick's best lines are unsuitable for The Tollbooth and some of its readers, so be warned.

The other cast members don't have much to do. Nia Long is merely a foil for Lawrence's jokes and amorous intentions (yes, there's the standard romance), though she handles herself well and looks positively stunning in her lingerie scene (you didn't expect to escape the uncomfortable disrobing sequence, did you?). Terrence Howard, who was so good in The Best Man, only has to look menacing as the bank robber destined for Lawrence's karate kick to the head. And the townspeople (the old ladies who can't understand what's gotten into Big Momma, the security guard who bumbles his way into the plot, the mean teenagers who beat up on Sherry's son, Trent) just serve to move the plot along. Jascha Washington (Enemy of the State) actually
does a nice job as Trent, at first distrustful of Big Momma (as many boys are of their overbearing grandmothers) but then gradually warming up.

The racial dynamics of Big Momma's House are worth noting. As if inverting most Hollywood films, the cast is entirely black except for John, who ends up the butt of numerous kicks to the groin, slaps to the head, and bruises to the ego. That the movie requires him not once, but twice to dance suggestively with the real Big Momma is particularly incongruous. Add in the portrayal of Asians (all blood-thirsty dog-fight bettors), and you have to wonder if Lawrence is exacting some revenge on movies' typical composition.

So is Big Momma's House a good movie? Well, when it's good, it's quite good; but when it's bad, it's very, very bad. There are some awful bathroom jokes, and the romantic subplot is fatuous. The film also blatantly rips off at least a half-dozen other movies. It even acknowledges its own thievery by referring to a "Jerry Maguire moment," but that doesn't help. And the ending, wherein the real Malcolm testifies in church is a horror. Director Raja Gosnell (Never Been Kissed) and screenwriters Darryl Quarles and Don Rhymer have barely the smallest understanding of how to construct a movie. But there is Martin Lawrence.

By the normal standards of movie reviewing--plot, characters, direction, cinematography--Big Momma's House is a failure. But by the ultimate standard--did I have a good time?--it 's quite successful. 

J. Robert Parks 06/7/2000