Likable 'Preacher's Wife' Sometimes Seems Just An Excuse For Song

Date: December 13, 1996
By Frank Gabrenya, Film Critic

From Columbus Dispatch (Ohio)
Submitted by: Larry A.


Most Christmas movies are so full of goodwill that you want desperately to like them.

The latest one, The Preacher's Wife, has a sweet story and a positive message. Its characters deserve the happy ending that the genre guarantees.

Still, effective sentiment calls for more than swelling strings, cherubic children and frost on the windows. The exhilaration in overcoming a crisis depends on how urgently the crisis is treated.

In director Penny Marshall's remake of the 1947 movie The Bishop's Wife, the actors seem so calm or even oblivious to disaster that the story just unrolls, like an orderly carpet, and rarely rises to its potential.

In the original, angel Cary Grant was sent to help struggling minister David Niven build a new church for his congregation. The cleric's unappreciated wife, Loretta Young, took an earthly interest in the handsome cherub, but no scandal ensued and all prayers were answered.

The remake takes the plot to a depressed New York neighborhood, where the Rev. Henry Biggs (Courtney B. Vance) is trying to follow in the legendary footsteps of his late father-in-law.

The old church is falling apart; the boiler is about to blow. A developer (Gregory Hines) wants to tear down the church and build a more advanced version a few miles away.

A parishioner's son stands falsely accused of armed robbery. Henry's son, Jeremiah (Justin Pierre Edmund), is losing his best friend to a foster home.

And the preacher's wife, Julia (Whitney Houston), feels neglected by her distracted husband.

In a moment of exasperation, Henry asks God for help. Suddenly, an angel named Dudley (Denzel Washington) plunges to earth like a 6-foot meteorite.

Angels-on-earth movies have built-in delights, particularly the early sequence in which the angel tries to convince the nonbeliever and the scene in which the angel uses unexplained powers to effect the outcome.

The Preacher's Wife is short on magic, other than a nice, recurring idea about Dudley's handshake making someone feel wonderful.

Instead, Dudley's presence -- especially his innocent but obvious attention to Julia -- shakes Henry out of his funk.

The low-key approach, though sweet in a preordained way, delivers little passion or even mischief.

With Houston, we have a problem: In her third film, she still doesn't show much dramatic depth. Even in the throes of marital discomfort, her Julia stands around the house beaming album-cover smiles.

Whitney is on board, of course, for her voice (and the sure-fire soundtrack album). She indulges in her first love, rafter-raising gospel, and gets contrived opportunities to sing, including a night out in a jazz club.

Unfortunately, her secular ballads follow the same arrangement: Start small, build big, end huge. The structure, though impressive once or twice, reveals a lack of inventiveness.

Washington, who can emote with the best of them, mostly competes with Houston for "most adorable close-up." Dudley arrives with a ravenous appetite for food, but as an angel he isn't about to mess with Julia; their flirtation is an empty threat.

More annoying is the constant criticism of Henry. As earnestly played by Vance, Henry is bludgeoned by concern; but, to everyone around him, he is way too serious. The guy deserves a break.

On top of that, the developer's proposal of a new church sounds like a good deal for Henry and the congregation. Julia, though, can't stand the idea of losing her father's church, as if progress were automatically evil.

Edmund displays adorability as the precocious son, and Jenifer Lewis provides the requisite sass as Julia's mother. As the alleged villain, Hines lacks the Lionel Barrymore nastiness that the movie needs.

When Houston and the Georgia Mass Choir make a joyful noise, The Preacher's Wife jumps up and dances in the aisles. When the talking takes over, it plays like a lovely snowfall that melts before it hits the ground.