Almost three years ago, after Diary of a Mad Black Woman opened to big box office but largely negative reviews (16% on Rotten Tomatoes, in spite of fairly sympathetic reviews from EW and the New York Times) Lionsgate gave up even screening Tyler Perry films for critics. This is not an unprecedented move for Lionsgate–the studio’s bread and butter is the kind of disposable horror film that opens and closes on the whims of teenage boys, who are generally not dedicated readers of film reviews. But it does seem unusual in terms of demographics: Tyler Perry is the only filmmaker I can think of who is making films for and about middle-class adults–people who do read newspapers, even if they don’t necessarily use them as a guide for cultural consumption–whose movies are routinely denied entrance into critical discourse.

Sure, the NYT will send a critic to a Friday matinee and publish a review in Saturday’s paper, but the very fact that they have to exercise effort on this almost guarantees that the review will be dismissive. Compare second-chair critic Stephen Holden’s review of Diary to Anita Gates’ review, in the same paper, of Perry’s next film, Madea’s Family Reunion. Holden acknowledges that Perry has a built-in (black, middle-class, female) audience that doesn’t include (white, middlebrow, middle-aged, male) him, and then procedes to take Diary seriously enough to consider the film on its own terms. Gates, meanwhile, finds Madea’s very premise suspect. “What is it about fat-lady drag that appeals to so many young black male comedians?” she asks, but doesn’t attempt to answer.

But could the tide be turning? It seems significant that mainstream critics are now going out of their way to defend Perry’s latest film.

Last week, we saw Armond White indict Lionsgate’s refusal to screen these films as emblematic fundamental disconnect between white film critics and black audiences. Bashing “most critics” for being “clueless about African-American culture,” White implied that Lionsgate would rather respect the inherent racism of the critical mass than reap the pullquotes of the handful of critics with a clue. As usual with White, the key note is contrary, but his  elevation Perry and simultaneous beatdown of white critical fave Judd Apatow is a fascinating act.

Less impressive on a pyrotechnical level but on much firmer logical ground, this week in Slate Wesley Morris favorably compared Perry’s output to the women’s pictures of the 1940s, which “starred actors like Joan Crawford and Rosalind Russell, and melodramatically saw women through all kinds of modern crises, from deceitful daughters to the career vs. stay-at-home dilemma.” He then offered pretty concrete evidence that Perry’s fans do, in fact, read film reviews:

Black women, it turns out, are thrilled to see themselves in movies both as they live and as they aspire to live. The women who write in to tell me that I don’t adore Perry’s movies enough usually mention that his films give them hope for true love and greater success. I’ve never gotten that letter from a Martin Scorsese fan.

Lionsgate is assuming that Perry’s core audience will show up regardless of what their local critic has to say, and that’s probably true. But Morris’ essay indicates that Perry’s fans are so devoted, they not only read reviews, but they’re eager to engage in a discourse with a critic about what the movies mean to them. If I was one of Perry’s fans/Morris’ readers, I’d be insulted that Perry’s distributor obviously thinks that conversation doesn’t matter.

Morris’ story sent me combing through reviews of Perry’s four feature films on Rotten Tomatoes. It soon became apparent that no matter how cut-and-dried Armond White would like this to be, it’s impossible to isolate Perry haters by race, gender or even geographic location. Case in point: Owen Gleiberman, a white man who writes for New York-based Entertainment Weekly, is one of Perry’s biggest critical fans. Gleiberman has been giving Perry’s films high grades from the beginning, and like Morris, he has cited Perry’s generic forebear as the films of Joan Crawford.

To hear these guys tell it, “getting” Perry isn’t a purely racial thing at all–it’s a film historical thing. Clueless or not, I imagine there are quite of few white film critics who would be quite happy to spot and drop a Joan Crawford reference.  Maybe next year, Lionsgate will let them do it before opening night.