Director Perry is finding his stride

Tyler Perry emerges as Booker T. Washington to Spike Lee's Malcolm X.
By ROGER MOORE
ORLANDO SENTINEL
Tyler Perry leaves Madea, his cross-dressing clich & eacute;, in the closet and almost gets out of his own way with "Daddy's Little Girls," his second film as director, third as screenwriter.
He's gotten comfortable behind the camera. And without Madea, his obese, smart-mouthed alter-ego auntie, to portray, the man in the dress shows he really can direct.
The acting is better, the staging smarter. The story? A lot more of his trademark "uplift the race" sermonizing, a wish fulfillment fantasy about a good black woman finding a good black man. Still, "Daddy" is so much better than his heartfelt-but-amateurish "Madea's Family Reunion" and "Diary of a Mad Black Woman" that you'd swear the guy took time off to do film school.
His latest is about Monty, a single dad (Idris Elba of "The Gospel" and "Buffalo Soldiers"), trying to save the cash to buy out the garage where he works and trying to gain custody of his three adorable (if mouthy) daughters from their shrewish, drug-dealing mother (Tasha Smith of "ATL," a real terror).
First, though, Monty has to do a little time as a driver for the car service that the garage owner (Oscar-winner Louis Gossett Jr.) runs. And he has to pass the witch-test, namely putting up with the stunning, snappish upper-crust attorney who is his client -- Julia.
Here's where Perry went right. Elba is good, Gossett always has been, but casting Gabrielle Union as his female lead lifts the entire movie. Beautiful, expressive and able to play comedy, she gives Julia a vulnerable edge that lets her make Perry's weary speeches about what the culture thinks about black men (no wonder Oprah loves him) not sound shrill.
At some point, you know the attorney is going to have to help the proud single dad fight for his kids. Her "friends" are not going to approve of the class-clash that her taking up with a mechanic entails, but she'll ignore them. There's a subplot about Monty's neighborhood being overrun by crack dealers that must be addressed. The actual little girls are written with sass and attitude, and not much else.
Spiritual
But Perry does a better job of blending the crass with the spiritual. A very sweet church scene sits comfortably between brawls and a visit to a blues bar (Monty must help Julia get in touch with her blackness, of all things).
If Spike Lee has been the Malcolm X of black filmmakers, knocking down barriers, Perry is more a Booker T. Washington. His movies are social studies classes, exercises in ignoring class consciousness and taking down fences. He panders, at times, playing for the low laughs and simple platitudes. But his message, aimed squarely at a black audience, is always clear -- these are our problems, and we are the ones who can solve them.
Which is why it is perfect that his movies are all set in Atlanta. You can eliminate race from the discussion when your story is set among various classes in the capital of Black America. This is the first film with a significant white presence, and the only one that almost plays the race card, in a finale that pretty much falls to pieces.
But Atlanta should do whatever it takes to keep Perry happy. As fast as he's picking up this film thing, when he finally fills in the hollows in his writing, he's going to be a force.