Straw (2025) Review: A Promising Start Undone by Stereotypes and Narrative Chaos
Straw, the latest Netflix drama from Tyler Perry, begins with powerful promise. It introduces us to Janiyah Wiltkinson, a struggling single Black mother trying to raise her gifted but ill daughter while battling poverty, exhaustion, and a system that seems designed to break her. In these opening acts, the film resonates with raw, emotional weight. It's grounded, real, and heartbreakingly familiar to many.
Taraji P. Henson, as expected, is phenomenal. Her performance is layered, restrained, and utterly believable. She carries the film on her shoulders with ease, breathing life into Janiyah with a natural command of emotion and subtlety. Frankly, she deserves better than this script.
Unfortunately, once Straw moves beyond its grounded first act, it spirals into something that feels more like an overdone melodrama than a serious character study. The plot veers off course dramatically, leaning into bizarre twists, a hostage situation, media sensationalism, and ultimately a clumsy psychological reveal that undercuts the powerful social commentary it seemed to be building toward.
What's most disappointing, though, is how heavy-handed and stereotypical the supporting characters are. Many performances outside of Henson's feel wooden or overly theatrical. Characters are typecast to the extreme: the angry Black mother, the wise-cracking best friend, the hard-nosed detective, the corrupt white authority figure. These aren't characters - they're tropes, and they distract from the very real emotional core the story tries to establish early on.
As soon as the first white character enters the frame, it becomes glaringly obvious they'll be the antagonist - FBI, armed, and devoid of nuance. While Perry may have intended to critique racial injustice and systemic bias, the execution feels more like a hammer than a scalpel. The film leans heavily into racial undertones in a way that feels forced and, at times, exploitative rather than insightful. Instead of deepening the message, it dilutes it, making the viewer more aware of the agenda than the characters.
This approach also does a disservice to the narrative. Rather than allowing Janiyah's story to stand on its own - a tragic, human story about loss, desperation, and survival - Straw becomes preoccupied with pushing a broader political message. That message, while important, needed more finesse. It's possible to critique systems of oppression without reducing every character to a pawn in a racial chess game.
Technically, the film has its moments. The setting - mostly confined to a supermarket and police standoff - does generate a certain claustrophobic tension. But Perry's direction feels rushed, with some scenes lacking polish, and emotional beats sometimes missing their mark. It's worth noting that the film was shot in just six days, which might explain some of the unevenness in pacing and performance.
There are bright spots: Teyana Taylor as the detective brings some grounded empathy, and Sinbad's brief appearance adds heart. But even these moments can't save a film that loses its grip on reality and emotional authenticity halfway through.
In the end, Straw could have been a compelling, character-driven drama - a raw look at mental health, grief, and systemic failure through the lens of a desperate mother. Instead, it derails into sensationalist territory, weighed down by stereotypes and unnecessary racial polarization. It's a shame because the story it almost told - the one rooted in Janiyah's pain, her love, and her quiet resilience - was one worth watching.
