In “Fatal Attraction” (1987), the thriller that brought a new kind of possessed feminine rage to the screen, the Glenn Close character — a scorned Medusa — often did things that looked crazy; she stalked and terrorized, she flashed her demon smile, she boiled a bunny rabbit
“Tyler Perry’s Acrimony” is Perry’s inside-out, topsy-turvy, screw-loose variation on “Fatal Attraction.” In this case, the vengeful hellraiser at the film’s centre keeps telling us that she’s justified. Yet the more you look at her actions, the more she just seems nuts.
Melinda, played by Taraji P. Henson in her mode of trademark wrath, gazes out from the screen with an anger so coldly consuming it turns her skin to ash. The movie opens in a courtroom, where Melinda, in purple lipstick, scowling like a kabuki puppet, is chastised by the judge for failing to obey a restraining order. We then see her in a therapist’s office, brooding and chain-smoking as she looks back on the relationship that ruined her life.
What we hear on the soundtrack (and a lot of this movie — too much of it — is Taraji P. Henson telling us things on the soundtrack) is a narrative of absolute betrayal: the con man named Robert who seduced Melinda with his lies and his soft-spoken manner, and who took all her money, and kept lying and stealing and betraying. No wonder she felt like she had to get even. With every hoarse breath, she tells us: The bastard had it coming.
But if his crusade seems demented (and it sort of does), it’s mostly in an unintentional, cut-rate-filmmaking way. After all, if he were really such a brilliant inventor, surely he could manage to land an appointment! Surely someone would want to buy his battery! There’s a racial-political subtext here (a black man without connections has no way to be heard), but Robert comes off as a lazy and depressed mad scientist. And the effect is to shore up the suspicion that Melinda is waiting around for a pipe dream that’s destined not to happen. Robert keeps draining her finances (she’s forced to mortgage the home she inherited from her mother), and by sticking with him she appears to be colluding in the slow-motion destruction of her life. So can we really say that she’s been “betrayed”?
The hook of “Acrimony” is clear: The audience wants to see Taraji P. Henson go hog-wild with rage. And yes, that happens, after Melinda gets divorced and learns that the woman who has replaced her will now reap the benefits (yacht, diamond ring, sky-view penthouse) that Melinda never got to enjoy in her marriage.
That’s a good subject for a domestic-jealousy thriller. Except that the movie, by this point, has established that Melinda is a paranoid crackpot. So who are we rooting for? “Acrimony” has too many coincidences, and it never musters any suspenseful grip, since the movie, which relies on Perry’s expository bluntness, isn’t crafted with enough cinematic cunning to draw us into the psychological states it depicts. It’s “Fatal Attraction” without the fateful power. By the time “Acrimony” reaches its garishly bloody climax, it’s the movie, even more than its heroine, that seems to have a case of borderline personality disorder.