Big Mommas: Like Father, Like Son: The Fat Suit Is the Only Way
In the original Big Momma's House, FBI agent Malcolm Turner (Martin Lawrence) had a totally plausible excuse for dressing up like 75,000 pounds of old-lady-shaped rubber: He had to trick Nia Long into believing he was her grandmother (the two hadn't seen each other in three years, so it makes complete sense that she wouldn't notice her beloved granny had transformed into a madman with a Styrofoam face) so that he could try to have sex with her while simultaneously protecting her from Terrence Howard, an evil criminal determined to crime Nia Long to death. Obviously. The Big Momma suit was the only way.
Same deal in Big Momma's House 2—how the fuck else was Malcolm supposed to figure out what that hacker guy was up to if he didn't find a giant pork rind, spray-paint it brown, climb inside, apply for a job as an immense foam nanny to the hacker's children, chase a perp on a Segway while screaming "Oooooooooo!" and perform an extremely fat cheerleading routine over the closing credits? I mean, I'm no expert in FBI protocol, but from what I learned in Big Momma's House 1, this seems pretty standard. THE BIG MOMMA SUIT WAS THE ONLY WAY.
But okay. Dudes. In Big Mommas: Like Father, Like Son, I have to put my foot down. This shit is getting pathological.
Allow me to describe the plot for you. Malcolm's stepson Trent (whose mother, let us not forget, Malcolm seduced while dressed as her own false grandmother) has decided to forgo a four-year college in favor of a rap career: "Four years? You know how long that is in hiphop years!?... I ain't going to no lame college when I can be on the road makin' money!" But since he's only 17 (that's 102 in hiphop years, but unfortunately those squares at the US government are still on the Gregorian calendar), Trent needs Malcolm's man-signature to finalize his recording contract. So he comes up with the perfect plan: "ambush him at his grind." Yes. AMBUSH HIM AT HIS GRIND IS THE ONLY WAY.
Okay. Trent seeks immediately to ambush Malcolm at his grind, which involves driving into the middle of a gunfight and waving some stupid papers in Malcolm's face. Then Trent witnesses a Russian commit murder (never a good move), so Trent and Malcolm have to go dress up in fat suits and enroll in an all-girls performing-arts high school and look for a missing music box and have underpants tickle fights and use their sexuality as a weapon because obviously IT'S THE ONLY W—wait, no it's not. It definitely isn't. There are literally infinity other better ways to deal with this situation.
Martin Lawrence, I'm starting to think you just have a thing about fat suits.