'Proud Mary," All Maternal Fluff And Little Action

Proud Mary film poster.

Proud Mary's purposely orchestrated trailer had audiences eager and excited, fists pumped and everything. At the start, slick designed credits had that black pulp aesthetic, like Foxy Brown meets Cleopatra was coming to town-- the 1970's color scheme and bubbled letters flaring up the hype. Taraji P. Henson’s Mary dons on her deadly femme assassin’s gear complete with bobbed blond wig, enters an apartment, and shoots her shot with a silencer before the poor victim can speak a word. Mary then looks around and spies a child inside his bedroom, a boy that will suddenly become the center of her world, essentially center this whole entire film. 

The film flat lines for a long while before picking up a heartbeat.

Mary (Oscar nominated for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Oscar robbed for Hidden Figures Taraji P. Henson) means business-- of the motherly kind.

For a while, there are no wig disguises, no hit lists, no fights. That enticing opener had revealed sexy colored hair pieces (ugh, why didn't she wear that red one?) and an arsenal of high tech guns. Mary is focused on motherhood, on becoming a surrogate beacon of hope to poor, beaten Danny, the child she left behind years before. It becomes a pure drama missing beats. The writing has no consistent continuity, taking confusing dips between drama and action genre.

Mary (Taraji P. Henson) and Danny (Jahi Di'Allo Winston) have a good connection.

Despite the countless hiccups, two action scenes stood out. The first featured Mary and her ex, Tom sending out a “message” to a rival group not to mess with them. The dynamic twosome, embodying a black Bonnie and Clyde, entered in quietly, battling and shooting their targets in "yippee ki yay" fashion. Suddenly, they flipped each other around, exchanging fire power back to back and side to side. It was a gorgeous blend of black woman and black man in sweet satisfactory action. Their sophisticated movements and agile bodies in sync, the sexual energy charged and wasted, the chemistry desperately needing to be expressed.

However, Mary is an awesome, badass lone woman. She has a great, tastefully decorated apartment with a giant TV and sectional furniture, a well stocked fridge in a clean, modern designed kitchen, and marvelous bedroom equipped with a dream girl walk in closet for her wardrobe. So guilty conscience and all, at least the assassin life pays well.

The other pivotal action sequence was the juicy, jaws dropping climax that had Mary doing the most epic slide shooting ever. It was outrageously wild, popcorn fun, watching her single-handedly demolish the patriarchy (so to speak), blasting them all the way to hell, injured and all. Again, it would have been far more enjoyable for it to be about her escaping the organization, taking the controlling reins of her own destiny, telling Benny and his boys to kiss her black buns. The story continued a saintly play for motherhood, her last bullet reserved for letting that fact be known, "I'm the mothering type!"

Oh hell naw.

Another star of the film was the guilt carried by Mary (Taraji P. Henson). This guilt smothered the story, this drama.  

Henson executive produced Proud Mary, a piece lacking in depth and details. Perhaps even she couldn’t possibly predict the outcome of viciously destroyed potential, the power of being more than what these writers put forth.

For starters, they didn’t utilize the breadth of wondrous Margaret Avery, one of history’s greatest actresses. Her Minnie character served as a docile wife and mother, telling Mary that she couldn’t fathom abandoning a child-- a cheap Bechdel pass. They should have had these two beautiful, immensely talented black women discussing notorious crimes, fighting styles, great wig companies, or which African vendor sells the best authentic cocoa butter on the market. Hell, near the end, Minnie should have arrived with guns blazing, scorned and pissed. Alas, Minnie was lacking just as Mary, who needed more fight and fury than crying. The writers seemed to try balancing Mary's humanist emotions with that of an assassin, that her traumatic childhood, homelessness, and Benny taking her in and training her (among other unmentionable missing parts) were reasons for her behavior. One wonders how many hits has Mary made, how many of them had children, and why it took Danny for her maternal clock to tick tock.

Danny Glover portrays villainous Benny who could have also been much more than a yelling, furrowed brow old man. After all, Glover was a monster in The Color Purple (also starred Avery). It seemed Benny had performed grisly acts upon Mary, the incestuous vibes of a father/son were a wee bit strong. Still, it's part a weird fear in movies where filmmakers don't want to cross the bridge of black characters being too evil.

Proud Mary had eye candy for everyone, but neglected to let these desires manifest. So comes the pros and cons of Mary not having a love interest. The pros are that she is strong, valiant, graceful. She is comfortable in her own skin, seen in the tight, hugging outfits, the way she carries herself. She knows she's a gorgeous woman. Certainly, there are emotional issues within, a few pieces of the past that cannot be buried. Then again, maybe the past is why she is alone. It is so feminist, so contemporary, especially as she is the only woman in this all male organization. The cons of her lack of interest pertains to her being reduced to maternal instincts, to not being desired for the passionate woman she is. For starters, before Proud Mary, an awful Jennifer Lawrence trailer featuring her with a bad accent had her femme character kissing and grinding with men half her age (as usual). Mary doesn’t make out or touch a man's fine chiseled cheekbones. Sure, she gets felt up (uncomfortably over a slice of red velvet cake) and Tom wants things to be how they used to be. Tom has the silver spoon syndrome, his father spoiled him, probably "gave" him Mary as a gift or something around those disgusting lines, and Tom feels entitled to her.  

Tom (How to Get Away With Murder's Billy Brown) and Mary (Taraji P. Henson) on the set.

Proud Mary--suffering from a vital tale worthy of the revenge tagline-- enjoyable for Miss Henson kicking serious butt. Everything else was clouded in a smoky enigma.