June
2, 2000 | How much mileage can a movie get from a single sight gag?
Only a middling amount, judging from Big Momma's House, a textbook
example of a one-joke comedy.
At
once overbearing and insubstantial, this formulaic farce invites us
to laugh again and again (and again) at the spectacle of Martin Lawrence
in cartoonish female drag as a rotund septuagenarian. If just reading
about that is enough to give you the giggles, consider yourself part
of the film's target audience. But heed this consumer alert: The funniest
parts are available for free in trailers and TV spots.
Lawrence
plays Malcolm Turner, an FBI agent who obviously shops for make-up and
rubber masks at the Impossible Missions Force commissary. He makes his
entrance in heavy disguise as an elderly Korean gentleman during an
undercover operation. Later, while conducting a stakeout in a small
Georgia town with his longtime partner (Paul Giamatti), he demonstrates
an even greater mastery of disguise by passing himself off as a corpulent
grandmother nicknamed - yes, you guessed it! - Big Momma.
Malcolm
dons a dress and affects extra poundage to gain the confidence of Big
Momma's beautiful granddaughter, Sherry (Nia Long, much better than
she has to be), who's on the run with her young son, Trent (Jascha Washington).
Sherry seeks refuge with Big Momma to avoid Lester (Terrence Howard),
Sherry's cold-blooded bank-robber ex-boyfriend, who broke out of prison
to retrieve a stash of cash. Sherry insists she knows nothing about
any stolen money, and Malcolm comes to believe her. Even so, his FBI
superiors suspect she is, at the very least, an accessory after the
fact. But that's only because Lester has used her as an unwitting accomplice.
It
comes as little surprise that Sherry falls in love with Malcolm - when
he's not in drag, he poses as a neighborhood handyman to woo her - and
it's no surprise at all when the real Big Momma (Ella Mitchell) inconveniently
returns home. Actually, there's nothing at all surprising in Big
Momma's House, a movie that proceeds at the unhurried pace of someone
ticking off chores on a things-to-do list. Big Momma uses salty language?
Check. Big Momma beats wise-guy teens at basketball? Check. Big Momma
shakes her booty at Sunday service? Check. And so it goes.
Director
Raja Gosnell (Never Been Kissed) served as editor on Mrs.
Doubtfire, which no doubt allowed him ample time to memorize bits
of comic business that he attempts, with mixed results, to replicate
here. Lawrence is no Robin Williams, but he gets the job done with exuberant
physicality and razor-sharp timing. It helps a lot that he remains extremely
likable even when he's doing stale shtick, or when the slapstick seems
more frantic than funny.