Disastrous Finale Proves Broken Easily Shattered
There is a good movie trying to break free in director Bill Duke’s Not Easily Broken. This adaptation of T.D. Jakes’ popular novel doesn’t pigeonhole its African American protagonists. Better, it doesn’t place them in a bubble completely outside of the worlds inhabited by those around them living in economic strata both above and below their own. It has the ability to admit to the imperfections love, romance and marriage can hold yet never dwells on any of them enough to cancel out the possibility of eternally heartfelt reconciliation between husband and wife.
Morris Chestnut and Taraji P. Henson in Screen Gems' Not Easily Broken
It does all this and more, and yet thanks to a disastrous third act tragedy all things good and laudatory about the film get unceremoniously chucked out the window and the only thing left as the screen fades to black are feelings of irredeemable anger and distaste. On a dime, things descend to a level of unforgivable mediocrity that’s absolutely indefensible, the big scythe-wielding hand of Death himself casting a pallor over things so omnipotent walking out of the theater unscathed is a decidedly iffy proposition.
For a while there, though, Duke had me fooled that he’d regained that smoothly intoxicating composure that helped turn both A Rage in Harlem and especially Deep Cover into such rip-roaring successes. His hand here is as self-assured and as confident as any good director’s, and while I wouldn’t ever say the melodrama he’s crafted rises too incredibly high it still performs at a solid enough a level I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to being amply entertained.
The story concerns itself with married couple Dave Johnson (Morris Chestnut) and Clarice Clark (Taraji P. Henson). At first, their romance seems destined to last forever, but when reality crashes headlong into it in the forms of unrealized dreams and shattered body parts (one of which courtesy an out-of-control motorist) everything the two thought about one another suddenly comes into question. Enter a sexy, newly single physical therapist (Maeve Quinlan) and an angry, man-hating mother (Jenifer Lewis) and the recipe for turmoil is ready for the crock-pot, the only thing keeping Dave and Clarice from heating it up the deep-down belief that, even amidst all this hardship, that matrimonial bond between them is still worth savoring.
Brian Bird’s (Bopha!) screenplay relies way too much on coincidence, and his insistence on having Dave spell everything out in nauseatingly monotone voiceover almost drove me batty. Yet his refusal to allow his characters to became one-dimensional shells is laudatory, even Mama Clark showcasing dimensions and nuances I admit I wasn’t entirely anticipating (especially based upon the woman’s off-putting introduction).
More than this, I really liked the subtle way that he and Duke explore Dave’s growing unhappiness and strip away Clarice’s protective shell. These are real people facing tactile problems a person can relate to and understand. More, they do it in a way that feels naturalistic and true, and even if some of their dialogue drips a little bit in treacle and cliché its coming from such an honest center this didn’t bother me near as much as it usually does.
The problem here is that the device the filmmakers choose to employ to force their characters to face their demons and discuss their issues is absolutely unforgivable. It is an insult to the viewer, so destructively manipulative it makes everything that happens next nearly unwatchable. The disgust I felt was almost beyond description and I wish that I could be more forthcoming in my reasoning then the decidedly brief shorthand I'm unfortunately stuck with.
My issue is that if I go into any of this in any detail it will prove to be a humongous spoiler ruining the entire last third, and as much as I’d like to say I don’t care the fact of the matter is I’d be a freakishly poor critic if I did it all the same. All I will say is that the penultimate set of circumstances driving the final moments are completely idiotic, show precious little faith in either Dave or Clarice’s abilities to work out their differences, leave one character in a state of total emotional isolation (while also trying to turn her into the man-stealing villain) and ultimately treat the audience with so little respect I almost wondered if Duke or Bird had any for them to begin with.
Pity, because up until that point I was more than happily willing to label the movie a pleasantly invigorating January surprise. After it, however, all I’m left with are shards of disappointment culled from the shell of a shattered motion picture proving Not Easily Broken is nothing more than a fractured melodrama unable to live up to the rock-solid attributes hinted at within its title.
Film Rating: êê (out of 4)
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