One of the best products to roll off the prolific multihyphenate’s Atlanta-based assembly line, largely absent the pandering humor and finger-wagging moralism that have bedeviled many of Perry’s earlier (if undeniably popular) efforts.

As with most of his films (Madea-centric and otherwise), subtlety isn’t Perry’s strongest suit. He tends to hammer his audience over the head with canned sentimentality, lazy stereotypes, and easy uplift.

It's an improvement on some of Perry's other films that strike a heavy-handed moralistic note. And it lacks the silly slapstick humor of his Madea movies.

This lame tale just falls completely flat.

Partway through the film, a viewer may begin to yearn for Perry’s usual schizoid shtick, the cacophony of screeches and sobs.