“Don’t you know that bad hair dye is like an old man: it don’t last long and it marks up the furniture.” –Big Momma (Martin Lawrence)
Big Momma is back, the question is: Why? In the name of all that is decent and thoughtful and pleasant, why?
In which Martin Lawrence is punished for daring to transgress the gender boundaries of our hidebound culture with its narrow notions of what makes a man a man, and what makes a man an idiot who dresses in a granny fat suit, by getting whacked in the nuts.
Assumes that the viewer is a complete and utter fucking moron…
We know how it is: You’d like to go to the movies this weekend, but all that street crime isn’t gonna fight itself, and you’ve got to pick up your cape and mask from the dry cleaners, too. But you can have a multiplex-like experience from the comfort of your own sofa with a collection … more…
Surprise! This is as fresh, as clever, as lively, as huggable, as satisfying as animated movies get.
Of course it’s Michael Bay-ariffic in that adorably ultraviolent, homophobic kinda way, all vehicles exploding for no apparent reason and deeply repressed male emotions, the kind of stuff that can’t help but lead one to the conclusion that Michael Bay is denying that he has some serious issues with, really, just about everything he comes into contact with: women, men, cars, swimming pools, family pets, home electronics.