Tyler Perry's The Gospel of Christmas: Netflix's Slapdash Festive Offering Reviewed

Netflix has released Tyler Perry's The Gospel of Christmas, a 103-minute holiday feature that the maker of A Madea Christmas directs with his customary haste and hoards most of the major credits, according to a review published as the seasonal flood of streaming Christmas films opens ahead of Thanksgiving.

The film stars Durrell Babbs, the R&B singer known as Tank, as Isaac, a secular musician forced into ministry when his pastor father charges him with resurrecting a sister congregation in a New York neighborhood defined by immorality and anomie — possibly East New York. The premise, the review notes, works both as a ploy to horn in on Hallmark's well-established territory and as a return to Perry's roots in gospel musical theater, with considerably more money behind it and greater latitude to bend the usual chestnuts on faith and family toward his Old Testament-facing sermons.

What does the cast bring?

Perry, now a billionaire studio owner, has as much claim to the title of film-maker as DJ Khaled does to producer, the reviewer argues: the actual production is secondary to the names attached. The lineup reads like the program for the funeral of an Aretha Franklin-level Black American treasure:

• Tank as Isaac, typecast in hooded eyes and turtlenecks
• Season three American Idol winner Fantasia Barrino Taylor as his dutiful wife
• Ageless 90s soul siren Chanté Moore as the heathen ex Isaac gigged around with before settling down
• Gospel royalty CeCe Winans
• Super producer Fred Hammond
• Pulpit grand dame Shirley Caesar
• John Gray, the Oprah-endorsed mega-preacher whose hallowed persona has taken a few knocks, as a guardian angel

The review calls it viewers' good luck that these performers arrive with onscreen experience and do not have to rely on Perry's direction.

Where does the craft falter?

The disregard for detail announces itself from the fade-in. A disappointing bar gig has Isaac storming out with a liquor bottle and smashing it in frustration before rushing into cross-traffic. Viewers never see the grab, the shatter or other basic coverage that Perry, as director, should have made sure was there. Instead, Perry jumps to the payoff: Isaac being hit by a car, flying into the air and tumbling end over end four times before the crash compels a come-to-Jesus turnaround.

The review lists further ham-fisted flourishes: an antagonist whose name is just "I'm the devil" spelled backwards, played by Beauty in Black alpha-cad Ricco Ross; Party City-grade angel costuming; kabuki stuntwork; shameless AI effects; and a dead-end New York City soundstage that looks repurposed from the original production of Rent. Perry also puts Isaac in a sturdy Volvo wagon, a car the director famously invoked in a rebuke of his "highbrow negro" critics.

On Tank's casting, the review is blunt. The current season of Reasonable Doubt has proved he is far better deployed as a villain than a conflicted saint. Some viewers, the reviewer predicts, will be spitting out their eggnog at the first sight of Isaac leaning on Gray's guardian angel.

Who holds it together?

Kirk Franklin, the gospel crossover king, supplies the musical direction, and his influence shows. The singers' performances drive their characters' evolution — Isaac moves from surly one-man bar show to tentative church recruit to confident gospel showman — and the music distracts from Perry's missteps. The stage-show-set-to-screen formula stays on track thanks to Franklin, the review concludes, no doubt.

The strongest case for watching belongs to Barrino Taylor. She makes a compelling argument for how much she has grown as an actor since her Broadway credits in After Midnight and The Color Purple. The review finds her clearly in her element as the steel magnolia, her tsunami of insecurities about her marriage, mission and mute son kept at bay by relentless optimism and unshakeable faith. When the facade cracks and she is forced to cry out, she does not just make a joyful noise: "She brings down the house."

What should viewers expect?

Taken for what it is — a rushed mashup of Miracle on 34th Street and The Preacher's Wife — the film should make for perfectly serviceable screen decoration. The reviewer's closing verdict warns against conversion to Perry's fruitcake approach to film-making: "overstuffed, a bit nutty and growing more stale by the hour."

Tyler Perry's The Gospel of Christmas is available on Netflix now, and its performance will test whether Perry's gospel-and-tinsel formula can muscle into the Hallmark-dominated holiday market that Netflix has spent years chasing.