Critic Reviews



Based on 14 critic reviews provided by Metacritic.com
Stylistically, Acrimony has moments of genius — slow camera movements that push in on Melinda, emphasizing Henson’s performance and the building pressure — but it’s also hilariously cheesy, and slightly chintzy, which adds to its schmaltzy charm.
While Tyler Perry’s Acrimony doesn’t quite live up to its stylish trailer — that water-torture sound design promises a floodgate that will burst at any moment — it’s the kind of “women’s picture” that used to be Joan Crawford’s bread and butter, the sort that allows its star to glamorously lose her grip in a succession of great outfits.
Ambitious and deeply flawed, Acrimony may appeal to hardcore fans of The Room–it’s not every day a melodrama comes along that’s this fun precisely because it never takes itself seriously.
So what was Tyler Perry going for here? Based on the sanctimonious streak that runs throughout his work, one might posit that he was trying to wrap a gleefully outrageous thriller around a lesson on marriage, like a slice of bacon around a particularly bitter pill. Except, at some point, the bacon got hopelessly overcooked.
The 20 or so minutes we get of Henson’s rage are not enough to warrant the title or the ticket price.
Ms. Henson does what she can with a role that keeps her anger at a low simmer until requiring her to go full banshee within basically one scene. You can’t accuse her or Acrimony of being boring, but the film falls short of a design for living.
I’m not sure the movie knows what it wants to say. Perry’s maltreatment of his morally ambiguous character feels excessive, and if Melinda is mentally ill, then that treatment is cruel.
Enduing a full 120 minutes of this sh*tstorm takes its toll. Bitterness, anger, malice, bad blood – that’s acrimony, baby. And that's what you'll feel if you blow the price of ticket on this hack job.
The film is so ridiculously overwrought that it makes the Madea films look subtle by comparison.
A ludicrously scattershot drama in which overwrought feminine rage, diary-of-a-mad-woman craziness, and inept filmmaking are all but inseparable.

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