All the good intentions in the world can't help make 1996's "The Preacher's Wife" anything more than a mediocre movie. It's a shame, since there's some incredible talent working to bring the picture to life, to gift it wings of soaring gospel and cheery do-goodery, yet all the production can muster are a few smiles and an admittedly euphoric soundtrack. It's a remake, drawing inspiration from the darling 1947 picture, "The Bishop's Wife" (starring Cary Grant, Loretta Young, and David Niven), which is a fairly strong launch pad for the feature. However, the miracle doesn't carry for a second cinematic round, finding director Penny Marshall struggling to locate the pixie dust that should rightfully blanket every frame of the film, while stars Denzel Washington, Whitney Houston, and Courtney B. Vance fight to maintain a semblance of personality as the material gradually, and rather peacefully, falls asleep. Kindly to a fault, "The Preacher's Wife" has a big heart, but no sense of pace and conflict to sustain the viewing experience for an unnerving two hours.
Reverend Henry Biggs (Courtney B. Vance) is having a rough Christmas season, finding the local youth center shut down, his church's boiler exploding, and any belief in himself waning, trying to reconnect with God as he faces numerous failures. His wife, church choir director Julia (Whitney Houston), doesn't stand idly by, instead trying to keep her husband's spirit up while facing the cruel reality that the two are drifting apart. Praying for heavenly guidance, Henry's hopes are answered when angel Dudley (Denzel Washington) drops down from Heaven, tasked with assisting the pastor as he sorts out his affairs, using his special way with people to restore faith to the faithless. While Henry shows initial reluctance with this divine offer, he has little time to process the visit, sending Dudley to spend time with Julia. Discovering her musical gifts and loneliness, Dudley can't help but be drawn to the unattainable woman, with his purpose as support blurred once his angelic heart warms up to being human again.
Perhaps the greatest problem facing "The Preacher's Wife" is its case of the cutes. With bookend narration from Henry and Julia's precocious young boy, Jeremiah (Justin Pierre Edmund), the film doesn't stand a chance, trying too forcefully to be loved without earning the privilege. Of course, one can't exactly blame Marshall for trying to warm up the crowds with a little cheap sentimentality, as she's working with a surprisingly cold fish screenplay by Nat Mauldin and Allan Scott, which struggles to light a fire under Henry as he confronts a future without the comfort of his church. He's a strangely neutral character facing Satan himself in Joe (Gregory Hines), a ruthless real estate developer looking to buy out Henry and build a towering temple of worship and consumerism nearby. This conflict alone should be enough to inspire some passion for the picture, but yet, nothing really comes of it outside of a hokey redemption arc. In fact, nothing really comes of anything in "The Preacher's Wife," the cinematic equivalent of decaf coffee. With Marshall piling cute on top of bland, the movie's deflating temperament is established in the opening 20 minutes.
What does work here is Washington, eagerly taking on a lighter role after a career of playing profoundly intense men. Before "The Preacher's Wife," Washington starred in "Virtuosity" and "Devil in a Blue Dress," and afterwards he took part in "Fallen" and "He Got Game," further emphasizing how unique his role is to the master of silent menace. Joyful and atypically playful, Washington owns the film with his incandescent ways. The entire premise of the feature could easily be pushed aside to watch Dudley return to the treasures of Earth, feasting on the food he's missed, while using his special magical touch (a warm skin-to-skin rush of nostalgia and hope) to brighten sour moods around him, working out his angelic powers. In a movie where almost the entire cast comes off zombified, Washington stands out with his beaming charisma. I hope the actor returns to this heavenly high one day. He wears it well.
And what to make of Dudley's infatuation with Julia? It's a confusing point, perhaps inherent to the original 1928 novel by Robert Nathan. It's difficult to understand what Dudley has in mind with his romantic inclinations, outside of a natural extension of human emotions, coming back to the angel like an old friend. The pairing could never work, but Marshall develops the couple as a threat to Henry's marital stability, finding the pastor gradually coming to the realization that the angel might fly away with his estranged beloved. It's such a weird subplot handled poorly by the script, which should be building a tense conflict of interest for Dudley as he faces the rigidity of his saintly duty and the renewed beat of his heart. Instead, it's a vague sense of tenderness that distracts from the rest of the story, leaving a suspicious stain of mean-spiritedness on an otherwise nontoxic endeavor.
The AVC encoded image (1.85:1 aspect ratio) presentation isn't exactly a thorough upgrade to HD excitement, but the basics are satisfactory. There's softness here to contend with, with the overall viewing experience lacking a rich crispness that occasionally arrives with a few of the tighter close-ups. Fine detail only really makes an impression during these intimate moments, providing an adequate read of skin textures and costuming artistry. Colors are adequate, emphasized in winter jackets and church robes, and the image receives a boost of memorable hues with the pleasing Christmas feel of the effort, emerging from decorations and lights. Skintones remain quite natural and inviting. Shadow detail isn't clearly defined with weak blacks, and there's a little overt solidification to ruin frame dimension. Pockets of noise are detected. The print is clean, without noticeable damage.
The 5.1 DTS-HD MA sound mix doesn't provide the full force of life typically inherent to a movie about the healing power of music, with much of the track holding to the front stage for maximum verbal articulation. Dialogue exchanges are satisfactory, with textured voices and a clean understanding of emotions and emphasis, while group interactions are stable and understood. Scoring provides tasteful support, along with the twinkly power of angel magic, but the real energy of the listening event is found in the gospel numbers. Dialing up Houston's pipes and her choral assistance, the soundtrack sounds big and full, feeling out the surrounds for additional immersion, while the low-end comes alive during these performances. The tunes sound terrific, with precise instrumentation and vocal placement. Atmospherics are generally muted, sustaining the movie's lack of enthusiasm. No distortion was detected.
Original Production Featurette (4:26, SD) is a simple marketing piece intending to encapsulate the production experience into a series of sound bites, blended with film clips. Interview footage with cast and crew is blindly celebratory, carrying a salesman tone. Don't expect much depth here.
And a Theatrical Trailer (:55, SD), actually more of an in-release trailer, is included.
There's an oppressive quality to "The Preacher's Wife" that no cute kids, Christmas cheer, and angelic salvation can lift. The gospel-drenched soundtrack helps, allowing Houston to play to her strengths (acting was not one of them), and Marshall understands the importance of the music, handing over a good chunk of screentime to church rehearsals and club performances, allowing the picture to reach a sense of euphoria the script is too snoozy to achieve on its own. It's certainly not a film to actively dislike, but with all these inspirational elements competing for screen time, it's strange to walk away from the effort completely unmoved.
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