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Going home has never been so hard…to watch.

Three years removed from his coming-of-age misfire Roll Bounce, lensman Malcolm D. Lee gathers an intimidating cast of African American actors and heads to the South for some home-cooked comedy in Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins. But there’s a problem—a few, actually. Not only is Roscoe Jenkins a mostly-stale clunk of leftover slapstick (not what I’d like to open the fridge to in the morning), it’s an awkward assemblage of misused stars that feels uninviting rather than warm, which is what a movie about family in the South should be.

Dr. RJ Stevens (Martin Lawrence) is a successful, familiar face in Hollywood. He has his own talk show (which, from what is shown, looks more like the Jerry Springer kind of “talk” show), a smart, kind, athletic son, an L.A. mansion, and a fiancée (Joy Bryant) who redefines the term diva—she’s a prissy, bossy, Survivor-champ vegan with an annoying physical regimen, an annoying Pomeranian pooch, and an annoying voice (as one character pinpointed it, she’s “the black Paris Hilton”). But when his parents call to invite him to their weekend-long 50th anniversary celebration, all that he has amassed is left behind for the quiet Southern town he grew up in and has since grown out of.

As if the movie’s beginning wasn’t formulaic enough for a Lawrence comedy (or any comedy for that matter), once Roscoe “RJ” Steven Jenkins, Jr. reaches the slack destination that he, his son, his fiancée, her “lab rat,” and her 57 bags of luggage set out for, Lee constructs this so-called “comedy” by seemingly duplicating a thousand other, not-worth-duplicating comedies’ blueprints—an uncomfortable reunion followed by cheers and celebration, then the arrival of a rival (Roscoe’s cousin Clyde, played by Cedric the Entertainer) and an old flame (Nicole Ari Parker, who represents the “better” girl for Roscoe), then chaotic mishap (basically, Roscoe messes everything up because he’s “adapted” to his red carpet lifestyle, rendering him incapable of acting by the traditional Southern norms that he spent his 20 years living by).

Of course, someplace mashed in the middle, Roscoe confronts his disapproving father (the terrific James Earl Jones, who’s neglected any quality screen time for squishy Martin Lawrence faces and farting-while-doing-yoga scenes), realizes that family comes before fame, makes amends with everyone he’d ticked off, and swaps his inconsiderate, arrogant wife-to-be for the kind, less-threatening girlfriend he wished he had all along. And don’t get your panties all in a bunch for bequeathing upon you that top-secret, G-14 classified information—you’d find out for yourself by watching the opening 20 minutes anyway—but rather consider it a favor. Now you can watch something else without worrying that the your hungry curiosity to know how Roscoe Jenkins ends (don’t lie, everyone knows you were curious) will eat you if not fed. Ease your mind and pick a movie you might take pleasure in watching.

Truth be told, there are a handful of chuckle moments in this systematic genre flick, all of which come from the supporting cast (Michael Clarke Duncan, Mo’Nique, and especially Mike Epps are very funny in their roles), but the droughts between them are long and tedious and not worth the whole of the film. However, if for some inexplicable reason you have seen and found amusement in Malcolm Lee’s newest failure, the DVD release will be no disappointment to you, for it offers a smorgasbord of in-depth and not-so-in-depth supplementary material, including Joe’s “We’re Going Home” music video, an extended opening scene, deleted scenes, outtakes, a short on-the-set piece, cast and crew interviews, and an extensive feature commentary option with the director.

It’s too bad the movie didn’t match the additional features.

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