The Epic Retardation of Big Mommas: Like Father, Like Son

In regards to its retardation, I was all set to proclaim this movie one of the greatest ever; the final chapter of a trilogy the likes of which will never be surpassed again.  The Back to The Future of retarded films--a real accomplishment.  And I say this because of its concept--a black man dressing up like a fat old woman and loving it so much that not only does he find reasons to don this costume under the guise of 'undercover work,' but also so much that he feels it necessary to pass on his old fat lady drag obsession to his step-son, like a torch passed on from father to son: "Here, the family legacy."  I was really ready to tell this story, really wax it on thick with the bullshit and slanderous tongue that is the M.O. of iR.

But then I saw the film.

This story was no pass of the baton to keep on a silly degrading drag race, it was a stumble short of epic fail.  It is the opinion of this writer that Big Mommas: Like Father, Like Son just may be the end of both Martin Lawrence and Brandon T. Jackson, at least in my eyes, and I say this with particular dread in regards to Mr. Jackson, for at such a young age, with an entire career ahead of him, he has effectively strapped three hundred plus pounds of dead weight to his ankles with this movie.  Get ready for the great sink.

Or maybe you won't drown, young lad--there's always a career in commercials.

And I condemn this poor upstart actor with such a rotten fate with good reason too, for this movie is an utter piece of shit.  Had they spun it my way--the symbolic passing of the torch (wig?), the family legacy to be upheld--this movie would have shined as the final gem on a wonderful project.  A wonderfully retarded one.  But to understand what I mean you must look at it all a certain way, like looking in a Kaleidescope clicking into place.  Stare not at the words themselves but between the lines.

Consider this:

In the original 'Big Momma's House,' Malcolm Turner (Martin Lawrence), is an FBI agent who's actually a master of disguise and has all sorts of prosthetics and movie quality make-up techniques that can help him turn into anybody he wants.  He's been assigned to track down this lifer who escaped prison named Lester Vesco.  Now, he heads out to Georgia and decides it would be best to stake out the house of Big Momma, who happens to be the Grandmother of Lester's ex-girlfriend named Sherry. . . Why this makes sense?  No one really knows.  Anyway, iso facto, Big Momma has to leave conveniently on some trip to see a friend, so Malcolm heads into her pad and stakes it out and shiiiiet, guess who calls?  Why Sherry of course.  He pretends to be Big Momma to lure her to the house and get information from her.  So she shows up the next day with her young son, and there you go, you've got Martin Lawrence in drag, pretending to be a fat old Southern woman.

And although strange, the disguise makes sense, in a way (considering you just forget the fact that he could have just as easily met her at the door the next day with his badge and gun and shit, and gotten all the information that way, but hey, thats no fun!).

But what of Big Momma's House 2?  This same agent finds that this guy, Tom Fuller who is the head of some private corporation is working with some evil douche looking to hack the FBI and commit other forms of cyber terrorism, so he decides the best way to get the dirt is to become his nanny. . . Did he really have to dress up like Big Momma this time? From the franchise stand point, yes, but from a character stand point it makes no fucking sense at all.  I mean he's a master of disguise!  He could have been anything. . . At this point, it just proves that he just loves dressing up like a fat old black lady--its like if Robin Williams' character in the end of Mrs. Doubtfire, after all the hub bub started going around playing nanny for other families, for fun or money, or sick pleasure, whatever.

I mean a nanny?  Martin could have just as easily dressed up like a fat Mexican woman and they could have called it Big Madre's House.

See?  When looking at it this way one can see why Big Momma's House 2 could be considered funny--ole Mister FBI has got a thing for drag--and furthermore how Big Mommas:  Like Father Like Son could have run with it, had they only had some damn artistic integrity for the character they created.  Nope, instead we've got a trilogy that doesn't even stick to its own shit: the boy Trent in the first one is a little boy, in the second film, years later, he's in middle school, and now in the third one he's entering college!  Furthermore, his brother--the baby they so heavily emphasized in the second movie (his wife Sherry was preggers, and he took a desk job to be with the wife: but then again, that itch started and he just had to put on his old lady drawers) is no where to be seen in this third film, and not even mentioned.  Sherry is also absent in this third film, but she's at least mentioned (apparently she was smart enough to turn this one down).  

They story goes like this, Malcolm's shit head step-son Trent The Amazing Aging Boy is an aspiring rapper, though his father doesn't share his same enthusiasm for his choice in a career.  Nope, like a true Dad Malcolm wants Trent to live his dream, to go to Duke University and be a Blue Devil.  Trent should follow daddy's advice, for he isn't the brightest of fellows: he follows his dad while he's doin' his FBI thing to get him to sign a contract for a rapping deal (cause he's 17, yah dig), and ends up witnessing this uber-dangerous dude killing this guy, so guess what? Now he's after Trent. So what does Dad do?

Puts on the fat suit and gets his kid to do the same, and they head out to an all-girls school to hide out and search for this flash drive with all the information on this evil douche: enough to put him away for life.  Never mind that all this time Trent should be finishing up high school and taking Finals, never mind that he'd never be able to get into this girls school because its like Juilliard, and the fool can't sing or dance: just rap. . . And whats worse is the fuckers throw in a love interest for Trent, who he eventually becomes friends with while dressed in his chick outfit, and of course, she finds out, and of course she's quite angry, and of course she forgives him in about a minute.  HATE THAT SHIT.

Include in the fact the movie isn't even funny; not at all, and you've got yourself some epic retardation.

The only thing funny about this movie is that it is even considered a comedy in the first place.  I really wanted to laugh, but often, I did not.  I did laugh once however, with only about 10 minutes left in the movie, and instead of validating the time wasted watching this steaming pile of retardation, it made me angry--angry for finding anything in this movie enjoyable or funny.

I don't understand why these movies are so popular, nor why black comedians have seemed to gravitate towards dressing in drag as old women.  But it seems to work.

Shit, Eddie Murphy, Tyler Perry, and Martin Lawrence should all get together and make a fat black old lady version of The Golden Girls minus a bitch.  That shit would sell like hot cakes!

In short.  F-this movie, and the entire franchise.  I'm sure they'll find some way to make a fourth and maybe even a fifth, what with all the money its been generating we'd be lucky if this doesn't turn into a whole Police Academy franchise. . . 

And it is for all these reasons that iR declares Big Momma:  Like Father, Like Son, epically retarded.

Brandon T. Jackson bobbing his head to his career outro.