Straw review: Taraji P. Henson carries the weight—again—in Tyler Perry’s latest tale of black womanhood under siege

If pain were a cinematic genre, Tyler Perry would have a lifetime achievement award. His latest Netflix film, Straw, is proof that when it comes to turning Black female suffering into high drama, the man simply will not miss an opportunity—even if he misses the point.

Enter Janiyah. Exit peace.

Played with bone-deep conviction by Taraji P. Henson, Janiyah is a single mother, tired and stretched thin, trying to outrun poverty, bad luck, and Perry’s pen. She lives in an apartment that could double as a sauna, juggles three jobs that pay in crumbs, and still can’t afford to keep her daughter’s asthma under control. When a day that starts bad goes nuclear—an altercation with a racist cop, a job loss, an eviction, and a wrongful accusation later—we find Janiyah spiraling into a hostage standoff at a bank, clutching the very thing she’s owed: her last paycheck.

This isn’t a spoiler. It’s Tyler Perry 101.

The Trouble with Perry’s Pain Machine

Let’s be clear—Straw is one of Perry’s better-made films. It’s not soaked in soap-opera theatrics or the whiplash transitions of A Fall from Grace. The pacing stumbles in places, and the rain—because yes, Perry still uses spontaneous rainstorms like punctuation marks—is as emotionally manipulative as ever. But the production value? Better. The performances? Stronger. The wigs? Still a war crime.

But the real issue isn’t the craft. It’s the message—or the lack thereof.

Perry once again places a Black woman at the center of an emotional demolition derby. While Straw dabbles in big themes like police brutality, mental health, and the racialized failures of capitalism, it never explores them beyond surface level. They’re aesthetic choices, not narrative depth. It’s trauma porn in a trench coat, posing as social critique.

Nevertheless, She Persisted—But at What Cost?

There’s a telling moment in the third act where a protester holds up a sign that reads, “Nevertheless, she persisted.” It's the kind of meme-ified feminist rallying cry meant to signal empowerment. But in Perry’s world, persistence feels more like punishment. Janiyah doesn’t overcome—she endures. There’s a difference, and Perry doesn’t seem to know it.

Taraji P. Henson Deserves Better—And Delivers Anyway

Henson, ever the professional, brings dimension, vulnerability, and fire to a character that often feels like a stress test in human form. This marks her fourth film with Perry, and it’s hard not to wonder if she keeps saying yes in the hope that he’ll finally give her a script that treats her like a protagonist instead of a punching bag.

Yet somehow, she rises. Her performance is so raw, so grounded, that you want to believe the movie around her is just as good. It isn’t—but she almost makes you forget.

She’s not alone. Sherri Shepherd is surprisingly strong as a compassionate bank manager. Teyana Taylor shows poise and depth as the detective negotiator (though her wig deserved a better fate). Together, the cast does their best to elevate material that doesn’t quite deserve them.

A John Q Remix with None of the Subtlety

Straw clearly borrows its hostage-standoff bones from John Q, swapping Denzel’s working-class desperation for Janiyah’s Perry-flavored chaos. But where John Q had restraint and purpose, Straw piles on the trauma like a bad buffet. Every scene seems to ask, “What else can go wrong?” and then throws in an act of God to answer it.

There’s no doubt Perry cares about the issues he writes about. But his approach is less about healing and more about hammering. And for a filmmaker who now has a billion-dollar empire and his own studio lot, the refusal to grow—especially in how he writes Black women—is exhausting.

Final Thoughts: A Straw Too Many?

Straw is not a terrible film. In fact, it may be one of Perry’s most watchable dramas in years. But that’s a low bar, and it's propped up entirely by actors doing Olympic-level heavy lifting. It’s hard not to wonder: with better writing, deeper direction, and more respect for the women at its center, what kind of masterpiece could this cast have made?

Until then, we’re left with another Tyler Perry morality tale where women bleed, cry, and collapse—only to be told it’s all character building.

Straw is streaming now on Netflix. Bring tissues—and maybe a therapist.