Acrimony: The Cost of Loving a User

I'm sitting here on this beautiful Saturday night watching this movie, and I just have to get this off my chest. I don't care.

In Tyler Perry’s Acrimony, Robert is often painted as the tragic genius—misunderstood, underdogged, and eventually vindicated. But beneath the dream-chasing exterior is a man drunk on ambition. So intoxicated, in fact, that he was willing to risk everything—not just his own future, but Melinda’s stability, her family’s inheritance, and her very sanity—in pursuit of a single vision.

When he finally received the call that could change their lives, he didn’t pause to consider their collective needs. He leapt. And in doing so, he dragged Melinda’s family’s home and financial security off the cliff with him. That wasn’t love—it was tunnel vision disguised as perseverance. His dream was singular, and everyone else was collateral.

Did he love Melinda? Perhaps. But love without reciprocity is not partnership—it’s dependency. What Robert truly valued was her resourcefulness, her devotion, her refusal to abandon him even as he left her to carry the weight of his failures. Melinda wasn’t just his partner—she was his battery. Her loyalty was the engine. Her belief in him was the currency he spent freely. And her eventual breakdown? That was debt coming due.

When he finally “made it,” he didn’t return to build a life with the woman who bankrolled his dream. He returned to pay her off. A check. A deed. A thank-you package for her years of depletion. But his emotional debt? Unpaid. His presence? Short-lived. Because Robert wasn’t seeking a future with Melinda—he was seeking a clean slate. And Diana, the woman Melinda once caught him cheating with, was conveniently standing by to fill the slot.

That wasn’t love either. It was optics. Diana didn’t inspire him—she didn’t have to. She was simply ready to step into a pre-built fantasy. Robert didn’t want Melinda or Diana. He wanted the lifestyle, the success, the praise. He just needed someone—anyone—willing to play the supportive wife role when the cameras started rolling.

And Melinda? She had broken. Untethered from reality at the thought of another woman walking off with her sacrifices, dressed in white, living the life she’d bled to build. Robert had once declined $800,000 while knowing her family’s business was in jeopardy. He let her drown in debt, despair, and disappointment. And then—after all that—he showed up to say, “Can we make this work? I’ve always loved you.”

Still with nothing to offer her. No plan. No proof that he’d learned how to put them first. He cashed out on her labor, then handed the winnings to someone else.

Robert wasn’t seeking love—he was curating a lifestyle. Diana just happened to arrive at the moment the costume fit.

Why do you think the wallet got left behind? She said to meet her at the coffee shop, and then her wallet is left in his truck, AFTER she tells him she wasn't able to help him get his research pulled. She'd been doing it all along, and she knew she could get him that check. Diana saw her meal ticket and she ran with it.

The only person who possessed love in this film was Melinda

So, no.

Melinda wasn't a villain or a victim, she was the fallout of his fantasy.