In "Fatal Attraction" (1987), the thriller that brought a new breed of obsessed female rage to the screen, the Glenn Close character – a despised Medusa – often made things that looked crazy; she stalked and terrorized, she flashed her demonic smile, and she cooked a bunny. Yet there was a core of angry reason to her madness. She had been seduced and betrayed, and she stood up for all the women who had ever felt that way. She may have caught, but according to the terms of the movie, she earned the right to leave her rocker.
"Tyler Perry's Acrimony" is Perry's twisted, inside-out variation of "Fatal Attraction" "The main character, Melinda, played by Taraji P. Henson in what has become her hallmark of this wrath looks like this The film opens in a courtroom where Melinda is being chastised in purple lipstick, which grins like a kabuki doll, by the judge for failing to issue a restraining order She then ponders her therapist's office, pondering and chain-smoking while discussing the relationship that has ruined her life.
What we hear on the soundtrack (and much of this movie ̵
But everything that happens in "Acrimony" seems a bit inappropriate because the story that the movie presents is not followed by the grim fever dream of adultery and gaslight that Melinda tells us. As the film progresses, Melinda proves to be a deeply unreliable narrator. But the problem with this love story-out-of-hell thriller – and the reason it makes even Perry's fans scratch their heads – is that Perry in Acrimony is a grabbiger but unreliable filmmaker. He has created a ridiculous scattershot drama in which exaggerated female anger, crazy diary, and awkward filmmaking are anything but inseparable.
What makes it really confusing is, at least for a while, seems as if Melinda delivers the righteous truth. At school she meets Robert (the two are played by Ajiona Alexus, who plays the younger version of Henson on "Empire" and Antonio Madison), and he seems to be the perfect, handsome, selfless type. At least until her mother's funeral, when he exploits her grief to seduce her, and then gets her to take $ 25,000 out of her inheritance to buy him a vintage car. Then he does not call her for two days and she shows up in the grungy caravan he lives in and – yes – he sleeps with someone else.
That's a bit too much greasy behavior too soon, but the real problem with Robert is that he's a flake and a spoon. He and Melinda stay together, and Robert, now played by the intriguingly tense actor Lyriq Bent, is working on an invention he claims will make her rich: a self-charged battery he dreams of Company Prescott for sale. The company has a lottery system to see potential customers, and Robert spends years – literally a decade – standing in front of corporate headquarters trying to arrange an appointment.
But if his crusade seems nuts (and so it is), it's mostly in a way that films are filmed, with Robert being a lazy and downcast, mad scientist. If he really was such a brilliant inventor, he could make an appointment! Surely someone would want to buy his battery! There is a racial-political subtext here (a black without ties has no way to be heard), but the effect is to support the suspicion that Melinda is waiting for a pipe dream destined not to happen. Robert repeatedly loses her finances (she is forced to pledge the house she inherited from her mother), and by staying with him, she seems to play in the slow-motion of her life. So can we really say that she was "cheated"?
The catch on "Acrimony" is clear: the audience wants to see how Taraji P. Henson gets wild with rage. And yes, that happens as soon as Melinda divorces and learns that the women who have replaced her are now reaping the benefits (yacht, diamond ring, Sky View penthouse) she could never enjoy in her marriage. That's a good subject for a domestic jealousy thriller – except that at that point in time the movie found that Melinda is a paranoid spinner. And that raises the question: If the heroine of a lunatic soap opera has a borderline personality disorder, does her anger come from the situation she allegedly provoked, or is that just an excuse? "Acrimony" has too many coincidences, and none of that has much excitement, since the film, which is based on Perry's exaggerated openness, is not constructed with enough cinematic cunning to bring us into the psychological states that he portrays. It is "Fatal Attraction" without the fateful power. By the time Acrimony reaches his Grand Guignol finale, the film seems to have a borderline personality disorder.