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artisanal film reviews | by maryann johanson

10 years of Flick Filosopher: diary of a mad white woman

I’m still not sure if this movie was intended as a joke, one that I’m still not getting. From my review of Diary of a Mad Black Woman:

As if he’s wielding a sledgehammer with intent to bash your brains in, director Darren Grant lets his movie veer wildly like this, from tawdry fat-suit vaudeville to diaphanous melodrama, from non sequitur movie references meant to be hilarious because they’re coming out of the mouth of a young man in old-lady drag, to sad tales shot like greeting-card commercials. And don’t think Grant and Perry — in his screenwriter suit — won’t drag in yet more genres. There’s the disease-of-week, featuring the tragic junkie wife of Helen’s cousin, Brian (Perry again, though thankfully this time without the help of prosthetics). There’s the courtroom drama of lawyer Charles’s wallowing in moustache-twirling corruption. There’s the Christian romance of Helen and Orlando (Shemar Moore), an impossible paragon of virtuous manliness who not only has a selection of color-coordinated bandana headbands to accessorize his working-class wardrobe but also volunteers to run out for tampons whenever Helen might require this of him (and no, I’m not joking)…

review of Diary of a Mad Black Woman, posted 02.25.05

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