March 9, 2005 | As we emerged from a recent preview screening of Diary of a Mad Black Woman, a colleague turned to me and whispered: “That was awful – but it was funny as hell.” Funnily enough, I knew exactly what he meant.

An ungainly hodgepodge of vaudeville-style comedy, turgid melodrama, and joyful epiphanies of spiritual uplift, the movie is, quite simply, a mess. And yet, just as bumblebees transcend aerodynamic principles by somehow managing to fly, Diary of a Mad Black Woman is, just as simply, a genuine hoot. Maybe not a hoot for every taste, but a hoot nonetheless.

Kimberly Elise gets top billing for playing the title role of Helen McCarter, a dutiful wife who’s kicked to curb by her swinish husband of 18 years. But don’t be fooled: The real star of this extravaganza is writer-actor Tyler Perry, who adapted the screenplay from his own stage play, and appears on camera in three major roles.

If, like me, you are of the Caucasian persuasion, you probably never heard of this fellow before Diary shocked Hollywood insiders by earning nearly $22 million during its opening weekend. (Not bad for a movie reportedly budgeted at less than $6 million.) For millions of African-American theatergoers, however, Perry is practically a brand-name product: His wildly raucous yet revivalist-flavored plays have proven phenomenally popular in touring and regional productions, even as they’ve remained more or less under the radar in terms of mainstream (and, yes, mainly white) press coverage. Perry’s audience base could easily expand if the first movie based on one of his cult-fave productions breaks through to achieve any kind of crossover success.

Be forewarned: Consistency of tone is conspicuous by its absence here. During the opening scenes, director Darren Grant whips the movie into a froth of soap-operatic excess as Helen gets the boot from her palatial home so her husband, wealthy lawyer Charles McCarter (Steve Harris), can live large with his younger trophy wife-to-be (Lisa Marcos). There’s precious little comedy in this dramedy until Helen seeks refuge in the home of her beloved grandmother Madea, a trash-talking, pistol-packing firecracker played in outrageous drag by the multitalented Perry. (Think Martin Lawrence in Big Momma's House, only more heavily padded and less feminine.) Madea offers heartfelt sympathy and blunt-spoken advice, suggesting that Helen get mad and get even.

Vertiginous mood swings continue throughout the rest of the movie, as Diary lurches back and forth between domestic drama and cartoonish slapstick, sometimes shifting gears two or three times within a single sequence. Perry goes for gut-busting belly laughs in his dual roles as Madea and Uncle Joe, Madea's crotchety (and horny) brother. But the actor-writer plays for keeps during his serious turn as a third character: Brian, Helen's cousin, who's trying to raise his children as a single parent while his estranged wife (Tamara Taylor) is lost to drug abuse.

Like most other suddenly unmarried women in female-skewing screenplays, Helen gets a new lease on life when she meets a hunky Mr. Right. But just when it appears she'll be happily-ever-aftering with soul mate Orlando (Shemar Moore), Helen gets pelted with a third-act curveball: Charles is attacked by an unhappy client, and requires help to recover from paralyzing injuries. Oh, dear. Oh, Madea.

Judging from the loudly enthusiastic responses at the aforementioned preview, Diary of a Mad Black Woman hits the bull's-eye with its target demographic. Less empathetic moviegoers may complain about the lumpy mix of mismatched elements and wildly uneven performances. But even the nitpickers and naysayers will have to admit that much of this surprise hit is thoroughly and shamelessly hilarious.