'Straw' review: Tyler Perry's gritty thriller stars Taraji P. Henson as a mother on the edge
Tyler Perry’s Straw throws its audience headfirst into one harrowing day in the life of Janiyah Wiltkinson (Taraji P. Henson), a single Black mother balancing survival and sacrifice. The film marks Perry’s return to the morally charged melodramas that defined his early career, while attempting a grittier, more socially urgent tone.
Taraji P. Henson in 'Straw.'
Chip Bergmann/Perry Well Films 2/Courtesy Netflix
Janiyah’s day begins with a quiet catastrophe: her daughter Aria (Gabrielle Jackson) needs $40 to clear a school lunch debt or face public humiliation. From there, the pressures compound — a landlord threatens immediate eviction, her boss (Glynn Turman) refuses a paycheck advance, and an altercation with a customer over WIC card restrictions leads to escalating tension at work.
When masked gunmen invade the store, Janiyah fights to protect her daughter’s seizure medication hidden in her backpack. In the chaos, she kills one of the robbers and then, in a blur of panic and confusion, fatally shoots her boss. Bloodied but composed, she grabs her paycheck and heads across the street to a bank — unknowingly setting the stage for a hostage crisis that grips the entire state of Georgia.
What follows is a taut, emotionally fraught standoff that draws comparisons to Abi Damaris Corbin’s Breaking. But whereas that film highlighted the plight of Black veterans, Straw centers the overlooked anguish of Black working-class mothers. Taraji P. Henson’s raw, tightly wound performance keeps the narrative grounded even when Perry’s script leans heavily on melodrama.
Teyana Taylor brings emotional weight as Detective Raymond, a Black female officer who sees Janiyah not as a criminal but as someone broken by an unrelenting system. Their interactions — marked by mutual recognition and compassion — give the film its heart. Nicole (Phylicia Rashad), the bank manager caught in the middle, also emerges as a figure of quiet understanding.
Despite its heavy-handed metaphors and occasionally contrived plot twists, Straw captures the emotional truth behind Janiyah’s descent. She isn’t a villain — she’s a mother running out of options, trapped in a world that refuses to see her. Perry’s direction may falter at times, but Henson elevates the material with a performance of exhaustion, dignity, and fury.
While not as refined as his recent historical dramas like The Six Triple Eight, Perry’s Straw is undeniably more urgent. It asks difficult questions: What happens when the safety net fails? How long can someone be pushed before they break? And more importantly, who listens when Black mothers cry out?
