THE PREACHER'S WIFE (G)

Director: Penny Marshall
Stars: Denzel Washington, Whitney Houston, Courtney B Vance, Gregory Hines, Jenifer Lewis, Loretta Devine, Justin Pierre Edmund, Lionel Richie, Paul Bates

Christmas has already been and gone, leaving this perfect seasonal offering high and dry, like a left over turkey. This feel good but moderately entertaining romantic comedy is actually a remake of the charming 1947 Cary Grant/David Niven fantasy The Bishop's Wife, but it also throws in generous touches of those wonderful heart warming classics It's A Wonderful Life and Miracle On 34th Street for good measure.

In his most light weight role since the laboured comedy Heart Condition, Denzel Washington plays Dudley, a charming but unconventional looking angel who is sent back down to earth in answer to the desperate plea for help from the reverend Henry Biggs (Courtney B Vance, recently seen in The Last Supper). Over worked and absorbed by the task of propping up his apathetic congregation, Biggs has lost faith in the power of religion and his ability to make a difference in his parish. To make matters worse, the church is threatened with closure as a ruthless self made millionaire land developer (Gregory Hines) wants to demolish the entire neighbourhood and transform it into a thriving, modern urban centre. Biggs is also unaware that his marriage is slowly falling apart as long suffering wife Julia (Whitney Houston, in her third film role) is growing frustrated by his neglect and detachment.

In his own mysterious way, Dudley quietly works a number of miracles that heal the reverend's personal problems and religious doubts, and also inspire those around him. The main twist here is that Dudley is an imperfect angel, and, still unbalanced by confusion and misgivings concerning his own premature death, he finds himself attracted towards Julia's beauty and vitality.

The Preacher's Wife is somewhat slim, unusually light weight material for director Penny Marshall (Big, Awakenings, etc), and the pace is occasionally a tad slow. However, Marshall stretches the slender material out by including a number of musical numbers that enable star Houston to strut the stuff for which she is famous, and, inevitably, the upbeat and rousing gospel songs add to the film's spiritual message and uplifting mood.

Performances from the solid stars are something of a mixed bag, although Washington seems to be enjoying himself with this light hearted change of pace, and his smouldering presence and charisma alone will be enough of a draw card for most audiences. Houston is solid in a fairly undemanding role, and only really comes into her own during the cheesy songs that pad out the material. Vance delivers a quite strong and fetching performance as the harried but essentially decent priest with so many problems to solve that he has unwittingly neglected his own family. Singer Lionel Richie makes his film debut as the owner of a night-club, while new comer Justin Pierre Edmund has an engaging and wonderfully natural scene stealing presence as the Biggs' young son Jeremiah. Some welcome comic relief comes from Jenifer Lewis, who plays Julia's sharp tongued and acerbic mother, and Loretta Devine as Biggs' cheerful but delightfully vague secretary.

While the original concept has undergone a major change in racial origins for the more enlightened '90's with all the major characters played by an entirely black stars, this updated version is still suffused with curiously old fashioned attitudes and positive values that echo the quaint morality of another more innocent and optimistic era. It is somewhat rare to see a major Hollywood production that presents positive images of the black experience in contemporary America rather than perpetuating the ugly and violent stereotypes that usually dominate the screen. Granted, The Preacher's Wife is mawkishly sentimental and gloriously old fashioned, but its sincerity, warmth, unconventional sense of optimism and positive ideals about faith and believing in oneself strongly resonate throughout the material.


© 1996-97 Greg King / Used With Permission

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