In my reviews, I try not to define anything as ‘misery’ or ‘trauma porn.’ However, there isn’t a more apt descriptor for Tina Mabry’s The Supremes at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat, a movie so relentless at bludgeoning audiences over the head with nonstop tragedy and melodrama that its emotional impact is eventually diluted until we become numb to anything occurring on screen.

The trio of best friends known as “The Supremes,” comprised of Odette (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor & Kyanna Simone), Barbara Jean (Sanaa Lathan & Tati Gabrielle), and Clarice (Uzo Aduba & Abigail Achiri) experience so much melodrama one could think Tyler Perry ghostwrote the screenplay, based on the book of the same name by Edward Kelsey Moore.

Mabry and Cee Marcellus’ script is so exaggerated, with as much risible drama as possible, that it eventually becomes ridiculous. The scene of a character suddenly dying at a funeral doesn’t register as tragic but feels cruelly manipulative. I expected it to stay in that area when this moment occurred, but it somehow got worse.

After that, a character gets diagnosed with cancer, another finds out her husband is cheating on her with a younger woman, and we then cut to a flashback of a child getting brutally killed by a racist who won’t stand his brother being in love with a Black woman. Then that person gets killed. None of these moments feel natural or poignant to the protagonists. It all feels artificially maudlin to make as many people cry as possible so they feel sorry for the insurmountable amounts of pain and suffering each main character goes through.

Had all of these moments been treated with sensitivity and care, it would’ve felt too much, but it could’ve worked. Instead, Mabry treats all of these incredibly tragic and punishing moments with the nuance of a soap opera, where the score gets heavier as if the pianist thuds their hands on the instrument and desperately wants you to feel sorry for the protagonists who successively experience the worst type of suffering imaginable, in their individual and collective rights.

But therein lies the problem: it feels way too much, and one can’t handle that much drama successively presented in a non-linear fashion for two straight hours…until it eventually dissipates for a half-baked commentary on friendship and the power of prayer.

But the imagery is never spiritually charged for audiences to be primed to such a shift, unlike in John Woo’s remake of The Killer, which indirectly told audiences from the start that it would challenge our collective view of spirituality and the belief in a higher power through its frames of a dove flying behind a crucifix in a deconsecrated church.

It gets even worse when the movie attempts to alleviate the drama with an elongated running gag involving Ms. Minnie (Donna Biscoe) attempting to kill herself. Yes, the film’s “funniest” scene is all about a suicide attempt, played for laughs with a poor-taste slapstick finale, to boot. Again, are we sure Tyler Perry didn’t have a hand in the screenplay because this is stuff we usually see from him in his Madea films or in his dramas?

No sense of humanity exists within any of the characters because they’re constantly challenged by overwhelming drama, with no end (or hope) in sight. It’s only in the movie’s final moments that Mabry decides that they’ve had enough, which gives a glimmer of hope for one of the protagonists. However, that moment doesn’t land because the audience still has to process the movie’s fifth melodramatic ‘twist’, having not even gone past the first.

The cast does their best with the shoddy material they’re given, particularly Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, who gives a turn as emotionally impactful as in Ava DuVernay’s Origin (Kyanna Simone as Young Odette is equally as good, particularly in a scene in which she takes down Barbara Jean’s abusive stepfather). However, one can see her arc coming a mile away because Mabry treads in the most egregious clichés possible, never attempting to subvert expectations or give true agency to a character who has always been ‘born fearless.’

Even the final scene involving Odette, which seems to challenge her personality, falls flat on its face because it’s intercut with another scene in which Barbara Jean reunites with her lover, Chick (Julian McMahon), after his brother kills her son. Why do this when the Odette scene is far more powerful than a reveal that never impacts Barbara Jean’s arc more than it should?

Creative decisions like these, which are constant in this film, sink entirely into what could’ve been compelling drama and are instead one of the most despicable examples of emotional manipulation I’ve seen since Florian Zeller’s The Son. It has no idea how to properly shape a profoundly human melodrama and instead always tries to punish its protagonists as much as possible when they don’t deserve it.

Of course, some will say that this will make them learn about life’s curveballs, but when they feel so forced and unrealistic, what do you actively learn from this movie? Is it necessary to pray? Some will say yes, others won’t agree, but there’s nothing else beyond the half-baked “God has a plan” commentary that makes you sit through 125 minutes of pure misery porn feel entirely unwarranted.

I love this cast and think they all do fine work here, but The Supremes At Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat is one of the most painful films I’ve seen all year—no wonder this was unceremoniously dumped on streaming with little to no fanfare. Everyone here deserves so much better than the overtly melodramatic material they have to work with, containing zero sensitivity and care to any of the subjects it haphazardly presents. Had Mabry chosen one or two intense moments from the book and carried it with its narrative throughline, it might have been worthwhile, but alas, The Supremes at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat won’t be remembered in a week from now.

The Supremes at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat is now available to stream on Hulu in the United States and on Disney+ internationally.