Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins

In the nine years since he's visited his family in the Deep South, Roscoe Jenkins (Martin Lawrence) has reinvented himself in L.A. as RJ Stevens, a Dr. Phil-esque talk show host engaged to a beautiful but shallow former "Survivor" winner (Joy Bryant). Roscoe's success is challenged when he returns home to his crazy family, including a disapproving dad (James Earl Jones) and an overly competitive cousin (Cedric the Entertainer) who's kinda dating the love of Roscoe's life (Nicole Ari Parker).

Big question: Seeing as Martin Lawrence's last three movies were bad ("Big Momma's House II"), awful ("Open Season") and horrendous ("Wild Hogs"), is "Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins" funny and sincere enough to reverse the trend?

Skip it: Look, it's Roscoe in funny golf pants! And spilling beet juice on a white suit! And farting while doing yoga! There's something enjoyable about hearing Jones' deep, deep voice say "stripper" and "sisters gone wild" while he complains about Roscoe's show topics, but not so enjoyable is the seemingly endless number of scenes in which characters react to everything with, "Daaaaaaaaaaamn!!!"

Catch it: If you think Bianca (Bryant) is onto something by running seven miles on a treadmill immediately after sex. Isn't the sex supposed to be the exercise?

Bottom line: For a few moments, "Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins" acts like it has something to say about the nature of success, loyalty and family. During all the other moments, it's an attempt at Southern comfort that generates nothing but discomfort for two long, agonizing hours.

Bonus: Roscoe's brother Otis (Michael Clarke Duncan) has an intelligent motto as the town sheriff: "To serve and protect and occasionally whoop ass." If only all cops were that honest!

What do you think of "Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins"? Email me: mpais@tribune.com

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