Barely rising above a modern-day minstrel show, Kingdom Come is director Doug (Jason’s Lyric) McHenry’s attempt to create another feel-good family comedy about the black experience. The too-‘Bama-to-be-true Slocumb clan returns to its hometown after patriarch Daddy Bud dies from a stroke. Bud’s wife, Mama Ray (Whoopi Goldberg), is completely unfazed by his death, because for the last 20 years she’s been merely keeping up a façade of civility toward the ornery bastard. “We lost your father a long time ago,” she says to the brood. Goldberg provides the film’s strongest performance as a quietly powerful woman who knows exactly what to say and when. Unfortunately, most of the other characters could have easily been extracted from The PJs or Nutty Professor II: The Klumps. Jada Pinkett Smith camps it up as daughter-in-law Charisse, who locks herself in the bathroom at Daddy Bud’s wake and complains that because she married Junior (Anthony Anderson), she’s “po’, foolish, and in a trailer.” Loretta Devine plays scripture-quoting Aunt Marguerite, who snaps pictures of her departed brother in his casket and calls her son Royce (Darius McCrary) “Satan.” And Royce, as the requisite thug, dreams only of getting married and having kids so that he can go on welfare. Vivica A. Fox rehashes her good-wife role from Soul Food, in this case saddled with recovering alcoholic Ray Bud (LL Cool J), who can’t get over the fact that his father never said he loved him. McHenry spends nearly an hour on the Slocumbs’ funeral plans, lingering pointlessly as they argue over which casket they want and what to put on Bud’s headstone. (Mama Ray eventually chooses “mean and surly.”) Amid a series of blowups, nostalgic flashbacks, and bad jokes (Cedric the Entertainer plays a farting preacher; Bud is buried in ballet shoes), McHenry fails to make his film’s putative point: The most important thing in life is family, however dysfunctional. —Maori Karmael Holmes