Tyler Perry’s Madea’s Witness Protection Program

How fortunate for prolific writer/director, Tyler Perry, that the vast majority of the movie viewing public is too lazy to establish meaningful neuron synapses. This movie shoves lumps of excrement down the audience’s throat and doesn’t, for one second, care to apologize for it. If I didn’t have to write a review, I would have most certainly left just ten minutes into the movie.

Even more repulsing than my diet grape soda and extra buttered popcorn combination was George Needleman’s (Eugene Levy) and Kate Needleman’s (Denise Richards) joke of a marriage. No chemistry at all between those two! And the kids!? Awful acting in every single aspect. The jokes were terrible, not only in content, but in timing as well. Actually, there was NO timing; it felt like everyone in the movie was just standing around trying to look good for the camera.

And how disappointing it was to watch a normally funny and talented actor, Eugene Levy, struggle his way through a horde of deplorable lines and terrible facial expressions. Well, actually, not a SINGLE performance in this film is worthy of even a mediocre praise. I couldn’t force out a compliment if my life depended on it.   

This movie, to me, boils down to a sequence of irritations from beginning to end. Irritation number one—and this one could be applied to most of the schlock that Hollywood is releasing these days—for the love of MOVIES and all that they represent in our society and culture: a minimally decent storyline is all I ask for! And this thing doesn’t got one. Sure, Tyler Perry, you’ve got the timing of your Plot Points down pat, but your Madea’s Witness Protection Program is in desperate need of a Madea’s Creative Writing Program. You’d have to be brain dead to find these plot points the least bit appealing or plausible.

According to Robert Towne, academy award winning writer of Chinatown, “A movie is really only four or five moments between two people; the rest of it exists to give those moments their impact and resonance. The script exists for that. Everything does." Which brings us to irritation number two: there is nothing that irks me more than watching a film that doesn’t allow these moments to impact and resonate PROPERLY—and this movie is the perfect example of such a flaw.

The story revolves around George Needleman having been set up as the linchpin of his company’s mob-backed Ponzi scheme. Not an absolutely horrible idea for a movie, but the problem lies within the fact that, from the inciting incident up until the third act twist, none of it inspires even the tiniest shred of suspension of disbelief. For instance, throughout the entire movie the Needleman’s teenage daughter, Cindy (Danielle Campbell), is infuriated at everyone and everything: blazing hot fire is literally coming out of this girl’s nostrils! After Madea’s (Tyler Perry) half-baked solution to tell her that her family has died, although they really haven’t, Cindy INSTANTLY feels repented for having treated them so badly. Really? It was that easy?

::SPOILERS:: (if you actually care)

And what was with that solution to the whole Ponzi scheme situation!? No way in hell, heaven, or anywhere in between that that was believable. Madea goes to New York City, where she poses as Precious Jackson and retrieves all the money stolen from the investors. Everything works out perfectly and a happily ever after ending is to follow: family rejoices, a new beginning for all and Madea has once again saved the day.

Last, but certainly not least, I cannot finish this review without a least touching upon my possibly biggest irritation of them all: the most ridiculous side story in the history of movie side stories, Grandma Barbara’s (Doris Roberts) love story with boat man Uncle Joe (Tyler Perry) culminating with the birth of half white, half African American George Needleman. The afro hairstyle and “big” boat jokes that followed were not in the least bit funny. 

Ladies and gentleman, a half-assed script translates into absolute chaos, combine that with a hint…err, I mean, a TON of phoned-in performances and you’ve got a genuine piece of junk on your hands! And, no, I do not care to apologize for my extremely rude and yet spot-on review.