The dude movies been trash..
But why all of a sudden im seening multiple anti Perry articles after he built his studios?
And its always some light skinned woman with a natural..
Hollywood has never been kind to black actors.. So when dude built his own studios, i was actually excited for the possibility for black actors to finally express themselves.. Even with the "writers room" debacle, let the shyt unfold. after things get rolling, im sure more opportunities will arise..
This what mfers on now? No other time would these freelance busted writers would've had a shot to write a article in a paper.. But when its time to tear down someone who looks like you, its come one down..
Shyt is getting fcking sad out here..
I Give Up on Tyler Perry
I Give Up on Tyler Perry
His formula may work, but his films spark too much debate about his inability to evolve
This past Monday, I attended the New York premiere of Tyler Perry’s latest film, A Fall From Grace. This was a meaningful occasion based on optics alone: Perry gave extreme honors to Phylicia Rashad and Cicely Tyson, who were both in attendance, as well as to Netflix for its diverse representation in the boardroom, which convinced the director that this partnership was the right fit.
But there was one part that stood out to me before any of these praises began. When Perry took to the stage, he admitted in jest that he has a hesitation toward showing his movies in New York and Los Angeles because we have a tendency to be “bougie,” and he urged us to disavow ourselves of this attitude for the rest of the night. As I sat in the balcony with my pen and notebook in hand, getting ready to pick apart the film scene by scene, I felt both recognized and indicted. In that moment, Perry touched upon a rupture between himself and the bourgeoisie that has cast a shadow over his work since the beginning of his career. I, as a critic and journalist, find myself unable to reconcile this divide.
He depicts an underrepresented part of society, and he’s done it well through instant resonance with the characters, the cackles, and the religiosity.
I became acquainted with Tyler Perry’s work like many other Black people: through our Black mothers and aunties whose social calendars are filled with church gatherings and revivals. Perry was a reinforcement of the morality lessons I heard every Sunday morning and at Wednesday night Bible study. Women ought to submit to their husbands. Successful women needed to subsume their ambition and smooth out their assertiveness through the love of a man. Cheaters would always receive their recompense. Abuse and Black womanhood were indelibly linked by design, almost as if you pulled at one thread, the other would unwind and undermine its significance altogether. And we loved Tyler Perry for not only representing Black church folk in a world that often stigmatized and misunderstood us, but also because he made money glorifying the church and God his way.
In a way, his work makes us feel seen. He depicts an underrepresented part of society, and he’s done it well through instant resonance with the characters, the cackles, and the religiosity. Not to mention, everyone loves a rags to riches story, and Perry’s own — a high school dropout, a sexual assault and abuse survivor, formerly homeless turned multimillionaire multihyphenate — was an inspiration to countless of us, including myself.
Until it wasn’t.
When I moved away from my small town and went on to Princeton, it was the first time in my life that I’d come across other Black women who not only disliked Tyler Perry’s work, but repelled his entire oeuvre. At the same time, I was learning new vocabulary for old problems: misogyny, misogynoir, emotional labor, heteronormativity, systemic racism, systemic sexism, gaslighting. I became empowered.
The further I moved along in my erudition, the further away I moved from Tyler Perry’s work. It wasn’t just the characters I couldn’t relate to, it was the story itself — not because I didn’t recognize it, but because I made an effort to move away and work toward a better one. I wanted successful Black women to be loved just the way they were; I wanted men to be held more accountable for the harm they do to women aside from cheating; and I wanted more complicated and contradictory love stories to be a part of our Black lives.
He may not have known us individually, but by virtue of us being in a cosmopolitan city and not based in the South in which many of his characters and stories take place there was an immediate and unshakeable rift.
Upon graduating and then moving into New York City, I found more Black people who were less like those I grew up with in the church and more like those I found in college. Some may have been Christian, others may have been skeptics, many were more socially mobile than their friends back home, sometimes in a different tax bracket than their families. But their social capital — our social capital — was large, enviable, depending on who you ask. And these were the same people who detested Tyler Perry’s work for the reasons I listed above. They could not fathom how someone who’s been a part of our lives for close to two decades would not evolve and grow as we were doing, or simply portray another swath of Black living to complement the ones with which we were already familiar. He’s made more than 20 films. The plots seemed repetitive and the character developments either lackluster or virtually nonexistent. There in that theater in the Lower East Side, I finally understood Perry. From his vantage point, we were the bourgeoisie. He may not have known us individually, but by virtue of us being in a cosmopolitan city and not based in the South (in which many of his characters and stories take place) there was an immediate and unshakeable rift.
We saw this rift play out almost a decade ago between "); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">Tyler Perry and Spike Lee specifically. Both men were born in the South, yet Lee’s hometown and core setting for many of his films is in Brooklyn. Spike Lee, unlike Perry, has been institutionally trained, studying at Morehouse before going onto Tisch. Spike Lee, unlike Perry, is recognized by both Black and White audiences, in terms of box office success and mainstream accolades. Back in 2011, Lee said that Perry’s shows were “c00nery” and “buffoonery,” insults of which he would later have a "); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">change of heart, and Perry’s response was this: “It’s attitudes like [Lee’s] that make Hollywood think that these people [characters like Madea who are based on real-life members of his own family] do not exist.”
And he’s right. For millions of us, characters like Madea are reflections of someone in our lives we know. To reject her would be to reject that loved one who should always have a place in storytelling. Furthermore, if it weren’t for Madea, Tyler Perry would not be the first African American person to own a studio outright — $250 million poured into 330 acres in a sprawling southern Georgia property.
In an era where Black ownership is either threatened or lost outright, this venture is breathtaking. At the same time, in a 2019 interview with the "); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">New York Times, Perry prioritizes ownership over artistic development. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t aspire to the latter at all: “It’s a business… And key in this business is to deliver to this audience, to super-serve them and give them everything they want that you can give them.” He’s serving a demand even if there is a push for that demand to be of better quality.
Tyler Perry may believe that New Yorkers tend to be bougie and he is allowed to believe this because in my experience, yes, those of a particular socioeconomic and educational privilege living in this city are hostile to his work. But this isn’t always true. Bougie folks live all over the country, including the South. There are Black folks irrespective of class, gender, and education who are exhausted with his creative output. Just last week, Perry "); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">posted a video on Twitter showing the scripts of several shows all written by him. The outcry from Black people across the platform was strong. In a time period of late-stage capitalism where those in the 99% are fed up with those in the 1% who are hoarding their wealth and resources, it was in poor taste for Perry to flaunt these accomplishments when there are many writers, particularly Black writers, looking for work. He followed up the next day with a picture of a “"); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">writers room” which is just him typing on a laptop in his opulent living room.
Although Perry responded in an "); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">interview with Sway, that there are writers and showrunners working on other shows in Tyler Perry studios, he did say that in the past, writers rooms were a “nightmare” for him and his ratings took a dip. Nevertheless, what were supposed to be motivating tweets didn’t strike the right chord, especially for those who may have been loyal to him in the past.
Whether our distancing from his work is due to more education, a better praxis, a different location, or even just a different sensibility, we don’t exist in a cultural landscape in which Perry has a monopoly on Black film that he once did in the mid- to late-2000s.
But we don’t have to remain loyal to him now. Whether our distancing from his work is due to more education, a better praxis, a different location, or even just a different sensibility, we don’t exist in a cultural landscape in which Perry has a monopoly on Black film that he once did in the mid- to late-2000s. Now, we have a choice. We have the Ava DuVernays, the Melina Matsoukases, the Barry Jenkinses, the Jordan Peeles, the Numa Perriers, the Garrett Bradleys, and the Ryan Cooglers. There is an expanse here where there wasn’t a decade prior, and aren’t we lucky that the tides have changed? Isn’t that what we wanted, including "); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">Tyler Perry himself? We don’t have to sacrifice quality over representation if we don’t want to. We can demand more because we know more exists. Maybe it is a matter of taste as we are continuing to carve and hollow out our own Black cinematic universe.
And in case you were wondering, I did not like A Fall from Grace. Aside from the acting and the melodramatic source, the story was rife with plot holes the size of the Grand Canyon. The older women were characterized as lonely and downtrodden as if these were justifiable reasons for the abuse they suffered. The main indicator that the charming man was not all that he seemed was because of his distant attitude during a church service. The motives for why anyone was doing what they were doing have as much of a probability to be found as Jimmy Hoffa’s grave.
Perhaps I could not disavow my “bougie” enough to enjoy a film in which Black legends played alongside Black actresses who have waited decades to be a lead. I wanted more and because of this, I’ve given up on Tyler Perry and his movies. They have suited me and my colleagues for a particular time in our lives but he has been unable to speak to a larger, multigenerational Black audience who’s grappling with more than just cheating and the politics of the Black church. His decision to stick to what has been profitable is one I can admire from a distance, even if I’m not his intended viewer anymore.
But why all of a sudden im seening multiple anti Perry articles after he built his studios?
And its always some light skinned woman with a natural..
Hollywood has never been kind to black actors.. So when dude built his own studios, i was actually excited for the possibility for black actors to finally express themselves.. Even with the "writers room" debacle, let the shyt unfold. after things get rolling, im sure more opportunities will arise..
This what mfers on now? No other time would these freelance busted writers would've had a shot to write a article in a paper.. But when its time to tear down someone who looks like you, its come one down..
Shyt is getting fcking sad out here..
I Give Up on Tyler Perry
I Give Up on Tyler Perry
His formula may work, but his films spark too much debate about his inability to evolve
But there was one part that stood out to me before any of these praises began. When Perry took to the stage, he admitted in jest that he has a hesitation toward showing his movies in New York and Los Angeles because we have a tendency to be “bougie,” and he urged us to disavow ourselves of this attitude for the rest of the night. As I sat in the balcony with my pen and notebook in hand, getting ready to pick apart the film scene by scene, I felt both recognized and indicted. In that moment, Perry touched upon a rupture between himself and the bourgeoisie that has cast a shadow over his work since the beginning of his career. I, as a critic and journalist, find myself unable to reconcile this divide.
He depicts an underrepresented part of society, and he’s done it well through instant resonance with the characters, the cackles, and the religiosity.
I became acquainted with Tyler Perry’s work like many other Black people: through our Black mothers and aunties whose social calendars are filled with church gatherings and revivals. Perry was a reinforcement of the morality lessons I heard every Sunday morning and at Wednesday night Bible study. Women ought to submit to their husbands. Successful women needed to subsume their ambition and smooth out their assertiveness through the love of a man. Cheaters would always receive their recompense. Abuse and Black womanhood were indelibly linked by design, almost as if you pulled at one thread, the other would unwind and undermine its significance altogether. And we loved Tyler Perry for not only representing Black church folk in a world that often stigmatized and misunderstood us, but also because he made money glorifying the church and God his way.
In a way, his work makes us feel seen. He depicts an underrepresented part of society, and he’s done it well through instant resonance with the characters, the cackles, and the religiosity. Not to mention, everyone loves a rags to riches story, and Perry’s own — a high school dropout, a sexual assault and abuse survivor, formerly homeless turned multimillionaire multihyphenate — was an inspiration to countless of us, including myself.
Until it wasn’t.
The further I moved along in my erudition, the further away I moved from Tyler Perry’s work. It wasn’t just the characters I couldn’t relate to, it was the story itself — not because I didn’t recognize it, but because I made an effort to move away and work toward a better one. I wanted successful Black women to be loved just the way they were; I wanted men to be held more accountable for the harm they do to women aside from cheating; and I wanted more complicated and contradictory love stories to be a part of our Black lives.
He may not have known us individually, but by virtue of us being in a cosmopolitan city and not based in the South in which many of his characters and stories take place there was an immediate and unshakeable rift.
Upon graduating and then moving into New York City, I found more Black people who were less like those I grew up with in the church and more like those I found in college. Some may have been Christian, others may have been skeptics, many were more socially mobile than their friends back home, sometimes in a different tax bracket than their families. But their social capital — our social capital — was large, enviable, depending on who you ask. And these were the same people who detested Tyler Perry’s work for the reasons I listed above. They could not fathom how someone who’s been a part of our lives for close to two decades would not evolve and grow as we were doing, or simply portray another swath of Black living to complement the ones with which we were already familiar. He’s made more than 20 films. The plots seemed repetitive and the character developments either lackluster or virtually nonexistent. There in that theater in the Lower East Side, I finally understood Perry. From his vantage point, we were the bourgeoisie. He may not have known us individually, but by virtue of us being in a cosmopolitan city and not based in the South (in which many of his characters and stories take place) there was an immediate and unshakeable rift.
We saw this rift play out almost a decade ago between "); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">Tyler Perry and Spike Lee specifically. Both men were born in the South, yet Lee’s hometown and core setting for many of his films is in Brooklyn. Spike Lee, unlike Perry, has been institutionally trained, studying at Morehouse before going onto Tisch. Spike Lee, unlike Perry, is recognized by both Black and White audiences, in terms of box office success and mainstream accolades. Back in 2011, Lee said that Perry’s shows were “c00nery” and “buffoonery,” insults of which he would later have a "); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">change of heart, and Perry’s response was this: “It’s attitudes like [Lee’s] that make Hollywood think that these people [characters like Madea who are based on real-life members of his own family] do not exist.”
And he’s right. For millions of us, characters like Madea are reflections of someone in our lives we know. To reject her would be to reject that loved one who should always have a place in storytelling. Furthermore, if it weren’t for Madea, Tyler Perry would not be the first African American person to own a studio outright — $250 million poured into 330 acres in a sprawling southern Georgia property.
In an era where Black ownership is either threatened or lost outright, this venture is breathtaking. At the same time, in a 2019 interview with the "); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">New York Times, Perry prioritizes ownership over artistic development. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t aspire to the latter at all: “It’s a business… And key in this business is to deliver to this audience, to super-serve them and give them everything they want that you can give them.” He’s serving a demand even if there is a push for that demand to be of better quality.
Although Perry responded in an "); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">interview with Sway, that there are writers and showrunners working on other shows in Tyler Perry studios, he did say that in the past, writers rooms were a “nightmare” for him and his ratings took a dip. Nevertheless, what were supposed to be motivating tweets didn’t strike the right chord, especially for those who may have been loyal to him in the past.
Whether our distancing from his work is due to more education, a better praxis, a different location, or even just a different sensibility, we don’t exist in a cultural landscape in which Perry has a monopoly on Black film that he once did in the mid- to late-2000s.
But we don’t have to remain loyal to him now. Whether our distancing from his work is due to more education, a better praxis, a different location, or even just a different sensibility, we don’t exist in a cultural landscape in which Perry has a monopoly on Black film that he once did in the mid- to late-2000s. Now, we have a choice. We have the Ava DuVernays, the Melina Matsoukases, the Barry Jenkinses, the Jordan Peeles, the Numa Perriers, the Garrett Bradleys, and the Ryan Cooglers. There is an expanse here where there wasn’t a decade prior, and aren’t we lucky that the tides have changed? Isn’t that what we wanted, including "); background-size: 1px 1px; background-position: 0px calc(1em + 1px);">Tyler Perry himself? We don’t have to sacrifice quality over representation if we don’t want to. We can demand more because we know more exists. Maybe it is a matter of taste as we are continuing to carve and hollow out our own Black cinematic universe.
And in case you were wondering, I did not like A Fall from Grace. Aside from the acting and the melodramatic source, the story was rife with plot holes the size of the Grand Canyon. The older women were characterized as lonely and downtrodden as if these were justifiable reasons for the abuse they suffered. The main indicator that the charming man was not all that he seemed was because of his distant attitude during a church service. The motives for why anyone was doing what they were doing have as much of a probability to be found as Jimmy Hoffa’s grave.
Perhaps I could not disavow my “bougie” enough to enjoy a film in which Black legends played alongside Black actresses who have waited decades to be a lead. I wanted more and because of this, I’ve given up on Tyler Perry and his movies. They have suited me and my colleagues for a particular time in our lives but he has been unable to speak to a larger, multigenerational Black audience who’s grappling with more than just cheating and the politics of the Black church. His decision to stick to what has been profitable is one I can admire from a distance, even if I’m not his intended viewer anymore.
look
i just don't ever wanna hear nobody say black folk don't support they own.
We just talked about this LAST week for fukks sakes, lets' move on already...
