Trapped in The Closet is an incredible work of art, masterfully crafted with the college students looking for good drinking games in mind. Kelly provides the voices of all the characters, carefully crafting his 45-minute opus to the tune of one simple beat that is reminiscent of the drumbeat from a Casio keyboard.
The plot is an emotional roller-coaster, with each additional character having slept with at least two other characters, allowing for the audience to play "Who'd they bang?" every time someone walks onto the screen. states that he gave the main character a Baretta because he "needed a rhyme for dresser). Bad rhyming is a staple, with words being brilliantly rhymed with themselves and elements of the plot added solely for the purpose of creating rhymes (in the director's commentary, R. Kelly released this masterpiece, a romp through the world of infidelity with an R&B twist. Just when I thought the genre of the rock opera had faded away, R.
I applaud R Kelly for this achievement, but against all my better reasoning. In fact, I probably did deep down really dislike this series, but somehow I couldn't stop watching, and laughing my dumbfounded head off. Should I keep going on, or will it kill the suspense? How much you enjoy this series, basically, depends on how much you can take R Kelly singing out a wretched soap opera, like some Z-grade director with aspirations to be legit, and at times the circumstances not making any sense whatsoever.
First we have the man himself, played by Kelly, trapped in a closet of his mistresses, then there's the mistress's husband comes home, THEN the husband's man mistress, followed by R's wife, then. Everything is sung by Kelly, playing over all the parts, and it becomes clear very quickly this is some kind of vanity project taken to a whole other level. Did I mention the music? Yes, there is, of course, God awful music that doesn't vary in the slightest for the entire 45 minute running time (filled with sounds of droplets and, well, you'll have to hear it for yourself in all cringe-worthy glory). He absurdly takes the angle of infidelity to one crazy step after another, until we're met with a very scary notion of a midget in a cop's cabinet. But whatever it was, this is a work where you can never be completely sure whether or not Kelly was serious or not with what he was going (in some interviews he takes himself perhaps far too seriously than someone with his reputation ever should). Maybe it was a call from Jesus, or some higher power that only comes to people whilst on the heaviest of psychotropics. If you asked me what compelled R Kelly to make Trapped in the Closet, I wouldn't the foggiest clue.
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