Tyler Perry wants to be recognized as a serious filmmaker. So let’s give Madea’s Destination Wedding the courtesy of a serious review—even though it makes that task rather difficult. Perry’s latest installment in the long-running Madea franchise brings back the infamous, foul-mouthed matriarch Mabel “Madea” Simmons for another chaotic family affair, this time set against the picturesque backdrop of the Bahamas. But don’t let the turquoise waters fool you: this film is less of a breezy island escape and more of a grueling, improvisation-heavy slog.
Though sporadically amusing in the way most Madea comedies tend to be, this entry falls squarely into the realm of forgettable fluff—dressed up in gaudy outfits, sprinkled with awkward moralizing, and padded with endless scenes that go nowhere. What should be a tight 90-minute comedy feels bloated at an hour and forty-five minutes, overstaying its welcome by indulging in Perry’s worst storytelling habits.
A Plot That Barely Exists
The story—what little of it exists—follows the Simmons family as they prepare for the wedding of Tiffany (Diamond White), Madea’s great-granddaughter, and her enigmatic fiancé, Zavier (Xavier Smalls). The twist? No one in the family has ever met the guy until the dinner where she announces the wedding. Red flags start waving furiously when Zavier, dreadlocked and oozing self-importance, meets Tiffany’s father Joe (also played by Perry) and greets him with the cringe-inducing line: “Whassup, my n—a?”
From here, we learn that Debra (Taja V. Simpson), Joe’s ex-wife and now trophy spouse to a wealthy man, has already locked in a luxury destination wedding—without consulting anyone. Tiffany has accepted the proposal and the arrangements, and all that’s left is for the skeptical family to fly to the Bahamas, tolerate each other, and hopefully not ruin the wedding before it begins.
Brian (also played by Perry), the straight-laced, no-nonsense prosecutor in the family, is particularly rattled by the news. He resents being left in the dark and is understandably skeptical of Zavier’s character. But in classic Perry fashion, these plot complications take forever to manifest. Nearly half the film drags along before the family even steps foot on the island. By the time they check into their luxury resort—complete with gift shops, casinos, and water slides—the film has lost its sense of urgency, assuming it ever had one.
A Comedy in Slow Motion
The comedy here follows Perry’s usual formula: long-winded, improvisation-heavy scenes stitched together by a threadbare plot. There’s an extended check-in scene at the resort that feels like it lasts an eternity, followed by an equally long scene where family members explore their suite of rooms. Then there’s a gift shop sequence where everything they buy gets charged to Brian’s card. You can sense a punchline forming… and then it fizzles. Like much of the humor in the film, these moments feel like first takes left in for the sake of runtime rather than comic timing.
The most memorable gag involves Joe convincing Leroy Brown (David Mann), a devout Christian and Madea’s ex-husband, that the groom’s bachelor party is a gospel-themed event. Leroy walks into a raucous, flesh-filled strip club scene, panics, and begins sprinkling holy water on the dancers. Perry, as Joe, delivers the film’s few genuine laughs with his slow-motion twerking, cane and all. These moments are undeniably silly, but they’re fleeting—drowned out by endless banter and half-formed skits that rarely coalesce into anything more than mild amusement.
Half-Hearted Filmmaking
What’s perhaps most frustrating about Madea’s Destination Wedding is the sense that Perry isn’t trying. The direction is phoned in. Scenes are blocked with little consideration for visual storytelling—characters stand around like mannequins while the camera, lifeless and static, captures the action like a bored security guard. There’s no rhythm, no cinematic flair, no effort to elevate even the simplest of setups.
This laziness is most evident in the film’s farcical elements. Comedy built on miscommunication and eavesdropping needs precision—characters entering and exiting at just the right moments, cleverly timed interruptions, and spatial logic that supports the chaos. Perry’s version? Characters randomly appear mid-conversation without being noticed, or conveniently overhear things while standing right in front of others. It’s not just sloppy—it’s as if the script doesn’t care.
And this is a shame because Perry has, in other works, demonstrated that he can be a more thoughtful visual storyteller. Films like For Colored Girls, Mea Culpa, and A Jazzman’s Blues—especially the latter—suggest that Perry does understand the cinematic language when he chooses to engage with it. A Jazzman’s Blues, for instance, closes with a stunning image of a man learning about his lynched Black father while sitting beneath a Confederate flag. It’s poetic, haunting, and visually rich. Nothing even remotely close exists in Madea’s Destination Wedding.
Comedy as Lazy Therapy
The Madea films—of which this is roughly the 13th or 14th—are best described as cinematic comfort food for Perry’s loyal audience. They’re rowdy, often vulgar, and sprinkled with sermons and family feuds. But unlike good comfort food, they rarely leave you satisfied. Perry’s approach to comedy here leans heavily on his ability to play multiple characters and film himself interacting with himself. And yes, there is some behind-the-scenes magic in making those multi-Perry scenes coherent, involving split screens, compositing, and some clever staging.
Yet it all feels mechanical. You can almost see the production checklist: throw Madea into a loud argument, have Joe say something scandalous, sprinkle in a twerk joke, and close with a heartwarming message about family and God. Rinse, repeat. It’s a formula that, while successful, feels increasingly out of touch and uninspired.
The Problematic Worldview
The ideological underpinnings of Madea’s Destination Wedding also warrant scrutiny. Perry has long been vocal about his Christian faith and conservative leanings, and these views often bleed into his storytelling. Here, the central conflict centers around paternal authority—Tiffany’s father must approve her choice of husband, or the wedding won’t happen. It’s an old-school idea dressed up in comic trappings, but it sends a peculiar message about women’s autonomy (or lack thereof) in Perry’s universe.
Tiffany herself is given almost no agency or personality. She’s essentially a plot device—an object of desire being passed between the groom and her father. Debra, the ex-wife, is cast as a materialistic schemer, married to a rich man and orchestrating events behind the scenes. It’s a simplistic and tired portrayal of women, one that flattens them into stereotypes rather than people.
Strangely enough, Perry seems most energized as a filmmaker when depicting dark, painful themes—addiction, violence, generational trauma. In those moments, his camera becomes more alive, more exploratory. There’s irony in how criminality and moral failure get visual depth, while scenes of faith and family feel sterile. It’s a trend not uncommon among filmmakers—Martin Scorsese, for instance, brings more cinematic fire to depictions of sin than salvation—but it’s especially jarring in Perry’s case, considering his messaging.
The Perry Paradox
So why doesn’t Tyler Perry apply the same energy to his comedies? The answer might lie in volume. Perry’s output is famously fast and furious—he writes, directs, and produces more content than nearly any filmmaker in Hollywood. This speed comes at a cost: a lack of polish, reflection, and growth. When you’re churning out movies like an assembly line, artistry becomes secondary to efficiency.
It’s also possible that Perry simply doesn’t want to stretch further. Making better films would require learning more about film history, technique, and possibly making fewer projects per year. That’s a trade-off he doesn’t seem willing to make. And yet, every now and then, he’ll release something like A Jazzman’s Blues, which reminds us that he can be a better filmmaker when he slows down and commits.
Final Thoughts: A Wasted Trip
Madea’s Destination Wedding isn’t unwatchable. It has moments of humor, mostly courtesy of Perry’s wacky performances as Joe and Madea. It has heart in scattered scenes. And if you’re a diehard Madea fan, this might scratch the itch for familiar antics. But for anyone hoping Perry would evolve the franchise—or even attempt to—it’s a disappointment.
The film’s biggest sin isn’t its predictability or its uneven tone. It’s the fact that it could’ve been better. There are glimpses—rare but real—of a more thoughtful artist beneath the wigs and catchphrases. If only Perry had the patience to give those glimpses the spotlight they deserve.Until then, Madea’s Destination Wedding remains what most of the Madea movies have always been: messy, mildly entertaining, morally confused, and cinematically inert. A vacation movie that, ironically, feels like work to sit through.
