It would be nice to know there was a special secret force in this world, like an Adjustment Bureau, perhaps, to make sure things like Big Mommas: Like Father, Like Son don’t happen.
I’m not sure what bugs me the most about this film. There’s more fat-suit acting. There’s moronic FBI stuff. There’s another Big-Momma-gets-naked scene. I suppose what I dislike most is the WRONG. Opening scene – Malcom (Martin Lawrence) uses his FBI powers to harass the mailman on personal business. Wrong. Then the step-son Trent (Brandon T. Jackson) must choose between a music career and Duke University. Nobody chooses between Duke and Hip-Hop. You might choose between Durham CC and your artistic ambitions, but applying to Duke by itself says you value your academic career ahead of your hobby. Wrong. Moving on — naturally, father and son have to dress as costumed elephants to go undercover at an all-girls school. Wrong and … don’t ask. In a cafeteria scene, Big Momma gets up to dance on a table. As in Big Momma 1 and Big Momma 2, “she” shows far more energy and agility than is possible for any obese geriatric matriarch to possess, of course, but nobody ever calls Big Momma on that. Then Martin Lawrence falls over backwards and the table collapses not like it’s been hit by the force of an adult male in a padded fat suit, but like it’s been pummeled by a 1,000 pound wrecking ball. And Big Momma gets up fine because “she” is actually a young man, not a hip-breaking senior citizen. So which is it, guys? Young guy in fat suit or actually obese wrecking-ball geriatric?
Do you remember the “Seinfeld” episode where Jerry and George are being questioned on the pilot by a foreign official? Something along the lines of, “is it standard procedure in your country to create indentured servitude as compensation?” And of course it isn’t. That’s just the absurd plot for the pilot they wrote. Big Mommas: Like Father Like Son has a moment like this roughly every 57 seconds. I can’t imagine being an actual FBI guy these days. Not sure you could ever go to the movies; you couldn’t turn around without taking offense somewhere. Aw, heck, what do I know? Maybe fat suit undercover work for agents and their non-agency nephews hiding out at an all-girls school is procedure these days. You’ll find it in the manual.
Two very nice musical moments, both involving love interest Jessica Lucas, keep this movie from being a complete disaster. Director John Whitesell has been doing schlock far too long for me to encourage a different career path, but I wonder what he’d do with a romance. Just romance, no artificial obesity, no gender identification games, no attempt at humor, just romance. Try it, John; it can’t possibly be any worse, can it?
Rated PG-13, 107 Minutes
D: John Whitesell
W: Don Rhymer and Matthew Fogel
Genre: Fat suit
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: People who think drag is a riot
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: People with a sense of humor
