I Can Do Bad All By Myself

Contrived, sentimental, tonally bipolar, and as predictable as clockwork, this latest from chitlin' circuit impressario Tyler Perry is just a fat slab of ecstatic entertainment.

Narratively and grammatically dim redemption pap.

If the Atlanta impresario is just bored with cranking out two adaptations a year of his earlier stage work, the audience is getting restless, too.

It is easy to knock the Tyler Perry formula, but you have to give the man credit: He knows how to create meaty roles for women.

Though no one would cite him for the cinematic qualities of his visually pedestrian films, Perry is a master conductor of emotions.

A genuinely moving, funny, inspiring, and heartfelt film.

Disappointing overall, I Can Do Bad All By Myself falls short in comparison to some of Perry's other films and the level of excellence both technically and from a storytelling standpoint.

I've never been a fan of Perry's Madea. I will concede this is probably the best use of the character, but the comic relief still takes away from some potentially powerful dramatic moments.

Too pat by a half during the finale, but Tyler Perry shows a maturity as a filmmaker that would pave the way for arguably his best picture, 2010's "For Colored Girls."