Release Date:
06/02/2000
Fifteen minutes into the boneheaded travesty called Big Momma’s House, you’ll be wishing said house would collapse on Martin Lawrence, putting him—and us—out of our misery. A wheezy retread of cross-dressing movies like Tootsie and Mrs. Doubtfire, Big Momma’s House is a star vehicle devoid of wit or inspiration, squandering the funnyman talents of its lead.
Lawrence plays a wise-cracking FBI agent (who is—conveniently—a Master of Disguise) charged with staking out the mother of a suspect-on-the-run. When mom decides to leave town on the night before the suspect’s arrival, Lawrence dresses up like the woman—insert hilarity here. The movie’s all concept with no plot, and it’s peppered with ancient gags that weren’t funny in the first place. Lawrence struts around like a thrift-store Eddie Murphy, practically begging for laughs. Worst moment: Lawrence hides in Momma’s bathroom while she takes a noisy, protracted dump. Sorry, but fat people pooing just isn’t funny…unless it’s Marlon Brando.
Lawrence plays a wise-cracking FBI agent (who is—conveniently—a Master of Disguise) charged with staking out the mother of a suspect-on-the-run. When mom decides to leave town on the night before the suspect’s arrival, Lawrence dresses up like the woman—insert hilarity here. The movie’s all concept with no plot, and it’s peppered with ancient gags that weren’t funny in the first place. Lawrence struts around like a thrift-store Eddie Murphy, practically begging for laughs. Worst moment: Lawrence hides in Momma’s bathroom while she takes a noisy, protracted dump. Sorry, but fat people pooing just isn’t funny…unless it’s Marlon Brando.