Tyler Perry continues to face longstanding criticisms regarding the persistent theme of traumatization among Black women in his cinematic work. In “Straw,” his latest Netflix production, the acclaimed content creator and studio head appears to intensify this narrative, pushing boundaries in what some viewers describe as a new extreme of misogynoir.
The film’s protagonist, Janiyah (portrayed by Taraji P. Henson), is depicted as an archetypal Perry character, burdened by relentless exhaustion. Her living situation, a loud, hot, and cluttered apartment, contributes to her constant discomfort, compounded by her precocious young daughter’s (Gabrielle G. Jackson) nagging medical issues and an looming eviction notice.
Despite working three jobs, Janiyah struggles to make ends meet. Her cashier position at a local food desert grocery store is particularly thankless.
A pivotal scene unfolds when an angry customer throws a bottle of fizzy drink at Janiyah’s feet, prompting her boss to order her away from her busy checkout lane to clean the mess.
Subsequently, Janiyah unwittingly cuts off an undercover police officer in traffic while running a quick errand. The officer responds by throwing ice coffee at her car and threatening to “find a legal way to blow your brains out.”
Janiyah is ultimately ticketed for driving with an expired license, her car is impounded, and she is forced to walk back to work amid an unexpected monsoon—a cinematic device frequently employed by Perry to further dismantle his female protagonists.
Indeed, her situation deteriorates further: her irascible boss (Glynn Turman) fires her for abandoning her post, her landlord empties her meager belongings onto the curb, and her child is removed from school after the principal alerts child protective services.
At her breaking point, Janiyah returns to the grocery store to demand her final paycheck, only for both her and her boss to be caught in an armed robbery when assailants storm the back office to empty the store vault.
A momentary glimmer of hope emerges when one of the robbers attacks Janiyah, and she manages to fight him off, killing him with his own weapon. However, her boss, convinced of her complicity due to the attacker seemingly “knowing her,” begins relaying his biased account to a 911 dispatcher.
It is later revealed the assailant merely read her name tag, but the boss’s escalating accusations and threats push Janiyah to her breaking point, leading her to shoot him dead as well. Soon after, Janiyah finds herself in a hostage situation at a bank, triggered when her attempt to cash that blood-stained final paycheck raises alarm bells.
The remainder of the film, which unfolds like a Tyler Perry adaptation of “John Q,” includes a public rallying cry, reminiscent of Luigi Mangione’s activism, potentially offering commentary on systemic issues.
The third act delves into pointed discussions on intractable racism within banking and healthcare systems, and the film’s signature Perry twist serves as a commentary on the Black mental health crisis.
As is often the case, Perry—credited as the film’s writer, director, and executive producer—explores numerous complex ideas, though critics argue his understanding of them, particularly concerning Black women, remains superficial, thereby perpetuating a disservice.
Despite these criticisms, “Straw” is considered by some to be among Perry’s more effective films in terms of pacing, particularly for what is ostensibly a 105-minute thriller. While the day-night transitions are notably abrupt, and the sudden downpours remain a perplexing element, the film avoids the meandering narrative, soap-operatic tendencies, or overt camp often found in his other productions.
The melodrama, while present, is handled with a seriousness that commands attention, largely attributed to the actors’ committed performances and, possibly, the benefit of additional takes for refinement.
Sherri Shepherd delivers a standout performance as the composed bank manager who maintains empathy amidst the crisis, a departure from her usual comedic roles.
Teyana Taylor is equally impressive as the detective hostage negotiator who advocates for Janiyah, with her performance’s only notable drawback being a wig described as “very much on-brand for Perry.”
Yet, it is once again Taraji P. Henson who delivers a powerhouse performance, skillfully navigating Janiyah’s journey from distress to anger to ultimately, winsome compassion.
It remains a regrettable observation that, despite collaborating with Henson on four films, Perry continues to seemingly exploit her talents without fully developing her characters beyond a cycle of pain.
In a scene outside the bank as the standoff intensifies, a protest movement begins to foment, with one Janiyah supporter holding a sign bearing the much-memed feminist slogan, “Nevertheless she persisted.”
Tragically, the inherent irony of this message is likely lost on Perry, who is ultimately viewed by some as a billionaire figure serving an evangelical Christian patriarchy, steadfastly committed to portraying women who make “bad” choices as deserving of disproportionate suffering and punishment.
This film, it seems, will not be the last “Straw.”
Straw is out now on Netflix.
