Imagine you’re a consultant hired by a company like Phil It Production, a storytelling outfit that’s built an audience through consistency and hard work.
Now, your brief is to guide them into the international market. Do you ask them to change a formula that clearly works? Or do you embrace it fully, market them as they are, and let the world adjust?
That’s what I keep thinking every time I watch a Tyler Perry movie.
The producer-writer-director has developed a very specific style, and a loyal audience that expects a certain tone from his work. That audience has shown up for him so consistently that he’s built his own film studio.
A typical Tyler Perry film blends faith, family drama, moral lessons, and the flair of a stage play. Often centred on a Black woman, featuring an almost comically vile antagonist (frequently a Black man), these movies don’t always win on production quality, largely because Perry takes on so much himself, but they deliver the high-stakes, over-the-top drama his fans crave.
On the other hand, critics regularly point to his rushed production schedules, repetitive storylines, and flat characterisation. His dialogue often feels stilted, and the messaging, particularly around trauma, gender, and class, can be heavy-handed.
And now, in mid-2025, we have a new Tyler Perry film: Straw. Is it business as usual? Or does Perry break away from his well-worn traumaploitation (trauma exploitation) formula?
Straw
Released by Netflix on June 6, 2025, Straw is a psychological crime drama written, produced, and directed by Tyler Perry. It stars Taraji P. Henson, Sherri Shepherd, Teyana Taylor, Sinbad, Rockmond Dunbar, Ashley Versher, Mike Merrill, and Glynn Turman.
Synopsis
A single mother’s life unravels through a string of misfortunes, drawing her into a situation she never anticipated. As she struggles to stay afloat, she finds herself the subject of suspicion in an indifferent world. What worked
Right off the bat, the production value, by Perry’s standards, is notably improved. While it still carries a DIY feel, it’s more polished than much of his past work. Not perfect, just decent.
The story is engaging and emotionally charged. It’s heavy, often heartbreaking, and moves like a rollercoaster. Whether you’re reeling from the absurdity of events or shocked by the characters’ decisions, Perry keeps you emotionally hooked.
He pushes the drama to the limit. This movie truly leans into the phrase, Can it get any worse? And that bleak momentum becomes strangely compelling.
One moment you’re watching a woman’s belongings get tossed out, then it starts raining. It’s that kind of cruel irony that keeps the tension alive.
Casting Taraji P. Henson was a smart move. She’s phenomenal here, nailing both the look and emotional state of a woman on the brink.
Her performance is raw and unfiltered, adding depth even when the plot veers toward the implausible. She grounds the story and makes her character, Jania, feel real. Honestly, she carries the entire film.
The supporting cast delivers, too. Sherri Shepherd stands out as a well-meaning bank manager, while Sinbad is a welcome surprise in a rare role. Teyana Taylor, playing a police officer, brings both edge and style.
Beneath the dramatic surface, Straw is trying to say something serious: about the weight carried by single Black women, about systemic failure, and about how relentless stress can lead someone to snap. Think Falling Down or John Q, but through Perry’s lens. The emotional core mostly lands, even if the storytelling is a bit over-the-top.
By the time the credits roll, the title Straw makes complete sense. It’s a clever payoff.
What didn’t work
Yes, we’ve all dealt with bad bosses and biased cops. But Perry’s antagonists? They’re cartoonish. Her boss is absurdly evil. The police officer? Generic, flat, and devoid of nuance.
Again, it’s a Tyler Perry movie on Netflix, so yes, expect poorly written villainised male characters whose sole purpose is to be awful.
The writing follows familiar Perry beats. Some plot points don’t hold water, like the misunderstood science project subplot. It’s laughable when it’s supposed to be serious, a clunky narrative device to elevate tension in one scene.
But the biggest problem? The twist.
Until the final act, I was deeply invested in Jania’s descent. Her spiral felt believable, even gripping. Then comes the twist, a full-on M. Night Shyamalan moment (and not in a good way). It undercuts everything that came before.
Without giving too much away: the twist breaks the story’s internal logic. It retroactively invalidates prior scenes. Who were the child protection officers talking to? Was everyone just watching her talk to herself? It makes no sense and cheapens the film’s message about systemic injustice.
A twist like that only works if the groundwork is properly laid. Here, it feels like a gimmick.
Conclusion
If you’ve watched a Tyler Perry film before, you’ll know what to expect, and Straw stays true to that formula. But this time, the formula is executed more effectively.
It’s tailor-made for his core audience. But could it also appeal to those who don’t typically enjoy his work? Surprisingly, yes.
The emotional intensity, strong performances (especially from Henson), and higher production quality make it accessible to a wider audience.
