January 29, 2007
Danger! *Spoilers* within
Wow! This is a spectacularly wonderful musical, a must-see tour-de-force that sweeps all criticism before it. It brilliantly does away with the need for narrative or context by a combination of photo-montage techniques that place the breakthrough and success of Motown music into mainstream pop against race riots in Detroit and the Civil Rights Movement (but VERY quickly) and an almost dialogue-free story in which, well, operatically, the songs ARE the drama. Of course it is great fun for us who are not aficionados to spot who is meant to be whom – though we have to remember that technically this is fiction – I don’t think anyone is meant to be convinced that Diana Ross was really a humble sweetie-pie who was reluctantly propelled into superstardom by her manipulative manager. Beyoncé Knowles controversially slimmed down her generous curves for her film debut so that, as “Deena Jones”, she could better resemble the slinky Ross; she is truly a great beauty, looking just as ravishing whether au naturel or iconic in giant wigs and sequined eyelids. Her voice of course is much better than Ross’s, but she doesn’t have much to learn about being a performer, international beauty and style-icon either.
The film encompasses many stories and many changes by this technique of elision followed by sudden focus. It’s almost too much to take in, but at the same time it’s easy to take in, which may be why some reviewers have (unfairly) accused it of being superficial. The story of the Dreams’ spectacular success is contrasted with two other stories of personal betrayal and failure; that of Effie White, ejected from the group for being too big, vocally and personally. Effie is played triumphantly by Jennifer Hudson, who was similarly voted off of American Idol for eating all the pies in spite of her obviously gigantic vocal gifts. We first hear her voice as a honeyed mezzo growl, so warm and so deep you just want to plunge right in; but, cruelly replaced as lead singer by the prettier and slenderer Deena, she can’t keep it down to the mellow level required of a backing singer and when it becomes clear that Deena has not only stepped into her high-heeled slingbacks on stage but also into the arms of her boyfriend, the ambitious, devious Curtis Taylor Jr (Jamie Foxx) off it, she performs the powerful aria “I’m Telling You I’m Not Going” with a heart-breaking wailing intensity that is almost uncomfortable to witness. There could be no better demonstration of the difference between Dream-girl pop and Aretha Franklin soul that the contrast between the smooth, practised grace of Deena and the Dreams, and the awkward, out of control, arm-flailing, stamping passion of Effie, in her rage and grief. Effie later achieves success of her own, but I won’t anticipate the story. The other character to go down as the girls are coming up is Jimmy Early, a true barn-storming R&B singer, (very) loosely based on James Brown, and played superbly by Eddie Murphy. His performance is a revelation, and not just that he can sing and dance; it’s the first time we have ever seen him really inhabiting a character, as opposed to being another version of himself. There’s one stunning scene, in which Jimmy learns that once again he has been stuffed and side-lined by Curtis’s single-minded obsession with mainstream pop and making money. Wordlessly, he starts to bring out his gear, rolls up his jacket sleeve. His girlfriend can’t bear to watch him so she leaves; his friend the songwriter CC (Keith Robinson) tries to persuade him that heroin is not the answer. Jimmy just looks at him, and he too leaves. Jimmy does not get a happy ending; a career-wrecking appearance in which he threw away Curtis’s prescribed smoothie songs, improvised a superb foot-stomping full-band R&B triumph, and got carried away by his enthusiasm and wound up trouser-less on stage, is followed by a fatal overdose. It takes precisely the right amount of while for Curtis’s sins to come home to roost, and it is deeply satisfying when they do – the real reason for the fictionalization of the story, since in real life the selfish greedy obsessive bullying career-wrecking manipulators do not in fact get their come-uppance. The film is spectacularly beautiful to look at, a marvel to listen to, and its powerful themes of public success and personal betrayal do not shirk the harsh realities behind the glamour and glitz. It is just superb.
Wow! This is a spectacularly wonderful musical, a must-see tour-de-force that sweeps all criticism before it. It brilliantly does away with the need for narrative or context by a combination of photo-montage techniques that place the breakthrough and success of Motown music into mainstream pop against race riots in Detroit and the Civil Rights Movement (but VERY quickly) and an almost dialogue-free story in which, well, operatically, the songs ARE the drama. Of course it is great fun for us who are not aficionados to spot who is meant to be whom – though we have to remember that technically this is fiction – I don’t think anyone is meant to be convinced that Diana Ross was really a humble sweetie-pie who was reluctantly propelled into superstardom by her manipulative manager. Beyoncé Knowles controversially slimmed down her generous curves for her film debut so that, as “Deena Jones”, she could better resemble the slinky Ross; she is truly a great beauty, looking just as ravishing whether au naturel or iconic in giant wigs and sequined eyelids. Her voice of course is much better than Ross’s, but she doesn’t have much to learn about being a performer, international beauty and style-icon either.
The film encompasses many stories and many changes by this technique of elision followed by sudden focus. It’s almost too much to take in, but at the same time it’s easy to take in, which may be why some reviewers have (unfairly) accused it of being superficial. The story of the Dreams’ spectacular success is contrasted with two other stories of personal betrayal and failure; that of Effie White, ejected from the group for being too big, vocally and personally. Effie is played triumphantly by Jennifer Hudson, who was similarly voted off of American Idol for eating all the pies in spite of her obviously gigantic vocal gifts. We first hear her voice as a honeyed mezzo growl, so warm and so deep you just want to plunge right in; but, cruelly replaced as lead singer by the prettier and slenderer Deena, she can’t keep it down to the mellow level required of a backing singer and when it becomes clear that Deena has not only stepped into her high-heeled slingbacks on stage but also into the arms of her boyfriend, the ambitious, devious Curtis Taylor Jr (Jamie Foxx) off it, she performs the powerful aria “I’m Telling You I’m Not Going” with a heart-breaking wailing intensity that is almost uncomfortable to witness. There could be no better demonstration of the difference between Dream-girl pop and Aretha Franklin soul that the contrast between the smooth, practised grace of Deena and the Dreams, and the awkward, out of control, arm-flailing, stamping passion of Effie, in her rage and grief. Effie later achieves success of her own, but I won’t anticipate the story. The other character to go down as the girls are coming up is Jimmy Early, a true barn-storming R&B singer, (very) loosely based on James Brown, and played superbly by Eddie Murphy. His performance is a revelation, and not just that he can sing and dance; it’s the first time we have ever seen him really inhabiting a character, as opposed to being another version of himself. There’s one stunning scene, in which Jimmy learns that once again he has been stuffed and side-lined by Curtis’s single-minded obsession with mainstream pop and making money. Wordlessly, he starts to bring out his gear, rolls up his jacket sleeve. His girlfriend can’t bear to watch him so she leaves; his friend the songwriter CC (Keith Robinson) tries to persuade him that heroin is not the answer. Jimmy just looks at him, and he too leaves. Jimmy does not get a happy ending; a career-wrecking appearance in which he threw away Curtis’s prescribed smoothie songs, improvised a superb foot-stomping full-band R&B triumph, and got carried away by his enthusiasm and wound up trouser-less on stage, is followed by a fatal overdose. It takes precisely the right amount of while for Curtis’s sins to come home to roost, and it is deeply satisfying when they do – the real reason for the fictionalization of the story, since in real life the selfish greedy obsessive bullying career-wrecking manipulators do not in fact get their come-uppance. The film is spectacularly beautiful to look at, a marvel to listen to, and its powerful themes of public success and personal betrayal do not shirk the harsh realities behind the glamour and glitz. It is just superb.