RELATED REVIEW
The Fighting Temptationsreview by LaTonya Taylor |
posted 9/19/2003
1 of 5
New York-based ad executive Darrin Hill (Cuba Gooding, Jr.) returns to his southern hometown after his Aunt Sally dies, leaving him an inheritance with a condition: In order to collect it, Darrin must revive the local church choir in time for the annual Gospel Explosion competition. At first, the task seems easy enough-before Darrin realizes he's got to assemble the choir from a less-than-promising talent pool, fight a legalistic member's attempts to foil him, and convince an attractive nightclub singer-his childhood crush Lilly (Beyoncé Knowles)—to join.
This pleasant but predictable comedy (think Sister Act or Sister Act II in a different setting and with less suspense) features a cast of well-known gospel and R&B artists, including Shirley Caesar, Ann Nesby, Angie Stone, Eddie Levert, the O'Jays, and rapper T-Bone. (Special features on the DVD include extended musical performances and extended/deleted scenes.)
The lead performances here are less than convincing, with Gooding's exaggerated facial expressions and Tae-Bo-styled choir directing becoming a bit wearing at points. Still, his comedic timing and innocent, deadpan delivery are enjoyable. Knowles is soft but moderately believable as the burned-woman single parent who opens her heart to Gooding's lovable liar.
The major problem with The Fighting Temptations is that it's not completely clear what writer Elizabeth Hunter and director Jonathan Lynn want the viewer to take away from the film. There are several potential messages here—about telling the truth, about having faith, about the value of church, family and community, about redemption—but none of them are fleshed out well enough to provide more than a warm, agreeable feeling about … good gospel music and whatever the movie's trying to say. Unlike The Preacher's Wife (1996, with Whitney Houston and Denzel Washington), this film lacks a sense of moral conflict or the idea that people should do right because there's a higher standard-rather than to tell the truth because "it feels better" or to resist sexual temptation "because it makes you strong."
Even more disappointing, the movie raises relevant issues, then backs away so quickly the casual viewer might miss them altogether. For example, a group of choir members (including several R&B singers who began singing in church) talk about whether musicians can sing both gospel and R&B music—the very reason Darrin's mother (Faith Evans) was forced to leave the church choir. Here's an opportunity to drop some insight or advance the discussion on one of the most divisive questions in gospel music. But the discussion fades out with no new light.
Then there's the question raised by the conflict between the legalistic Paulina (LaTanya Richardson) and the unwed mother Lilly. The fact is, both Paulina and Lilly have something to say about the balance between grace and truth. But the conflict is missing nuance. Paulina's message is lost because her character is a bitter, power-hungry trustee who is seen as old and uptight compared to doe-eyed, courageous, enlightened Lilly. Both have wisdom to offer, but neither has enough balance to be credible.
Finally, the film's portrayal of the black church blurs the line between comedy and critique to the point where the viewer can't tell whether the film mocks faith and the church or simply hints at an important question about its relevance. For example, the pastor is a weak, stammering milquetoast man who dispenses a few platitudes and bows to the slightest pressure from his sister Paulina. Unfortunately, she's the only person who seems interested in church involvement, Bible study or questions of morality—and bitterly so. The only redemption in the film takes place when someone is shamed into it—when Darrin is outed as a liar, or when the pastor reveals that Paulina's husband left her (and her change of heart is just an afterthought).
The rendering of church services—with their celebratory "shouting" and expressiveness—is more entertaining than meaningful. And these scenes aren't accompanied by the spiritual breakthrough of Disney's Polly (1989, featuring the flamboyant choreography of Debbie Allen). One almost expects the Blues Brothers to come tumbling down the aisle; at least that film was clearly comedy. Unfortunately—and arguably, dangerously—the feeling is that church is an element of African-American culture valued more for its past relevance or good memories than for any current meaning.
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