Respect

re: 'Re

or

Tell You What She Means To Me...

 

There had been an Aretha Franklin bio-pic in the works for some time, and it was inevitable with the successes of Ray, Walk the Line, Get On Up, Bohemian Rhapsody, and Rocketman. Supposedly, Franklin didn't mind the project and did some work approving it before her death in 2018. It's debut last Christmas was delayed by the Corona virus pandemic and it managed to make its debut on-screens near the anniversary of her passing.

 

It is expecting too much for the resulting movie, Respect, to do her justice. Franklin was an original, one of those barrier-breakers who created a genre by doing her own thing, galvanizing the music of the past and sending it soaring into the future, doing it her way, not just as a stylist, but as a creator. An established song in Aretha's guardianship became something else entirely, almost unrecognizable from the source. She had a fierce discipline in the studio, and an evangelical core of inspiration and expression. 

And her voice was powerful, scarily rafter-shaking. When Luciano Pavarotti called in to The Emmy's one year, pleading illness, it should have come as no surprise that Franklin, as a last-minute replacement, would knock it out of the theater (and probably cure Pavarotti's cold, as well!)—one can see that performance in one of the clips provided below. She was the Queen of Soul, in a time when jazz and gospel greats were still around to say "Amen." And probably "Hallelujah!"

The first scene sets the stage. The Rev C.L.Franklin (Forest Whittaker) wakes up a 10 year old Aretha (Skye Dakota Turner) to tell her she's supposed to sing for his party guests. As she makes her way to the living room, she waves to her Dad's acquaintances, "Hi, Mr. Tatum!" "Hi, Uncle Duke!" "Hi, Aunt Ella!" "Hi, Uncle Sam!" Hey, no pressure, kid. But, she manages to belt out her song impressing the luminaries. Aretha and her sisters live with their father and grandmother in Detroit, while their Mother (Audra McDonald) lives apart. Aretha lives for those visits with her mother, who counsels her to never let any man control her, that she never has to sing if she doesn't want to, or speak if she doesn't want to.

Whether her mother ever spoke those words is a matter of conjecture, but they might be a dramatic contrivance as Aretha, once her Mother has passed, stops speaking, stops singing (until counseled by Rev. James Cleveland—played by Tituss Burgess—that "music will save your life!"), and is victimized by a pedophile-friend of her father's, resulting in her first pregnancy at the age of 12. Then, her father starts using her in his services and she begins to sing during events for the Rev. King. At this point, we have a confused young woman torn between her gifts and others' desires to control them, which frustrates her and makes her succumb to "her demons." Such as taking up with bad-boys, like her first husband and eventual manager Ted White (Marlon Wayans), much against her father's wishes. It will be a contentious marriage with physical abuse and a wrestling match over crowing rights when she becomes a success.

But, that success doesn't come quickly enough for Aretha, who is grateful to be signed with Columbia Record (Tate Donovan plays producer John Hammond, and rather unctuously), but spins out four records of standards without a hit—the frustration is palpable as she is separated in her vocal booth from a studio full of white orchestra men. A dust-up at a club performance by a hacked-off Dinah Washington (Mary J. Blige in full dudgeonous diva mode), who suspects Franklin of riding her coat-tails and wasting her own talent, has her making a move (through the machinations of White) to Atlantic Records and producer Jerry Wexler (Marc Maron—priceless), who is willing to give her just enough leverage for her to sign.

But, rather than record in New York, as she's used to, Wexler takes her to Muscles Shoals, Alabama, with a motley crew of white musicians with attitude, where tensions run a little high, but Franklin starts getting the sound she wants. She starts to chart and as her star rises, so does White's desire to be seen as the genius behind the sound.

There have been enough of these "rock-star biographies" that one could walk in with a list of check-boxes and start marking them off—professional jealousy, bad partner, shady managers, unfulfilling success, going off the rails, substance abuse (with stage fall), and revelation followed by redemption. One wishes that the scripts emphasis on Aretha seeking love and approval might make it unique, but that's about every music-biography through-line (whether "based on a true story" or fictional) that's ever been done. I told a friend that I'd seen Respect and the reply was "Isn't that the Tina Turner story?" and after a beat, said "Well, actually, yes...yes it is!"

 

The only difference is we're talking about Aretha flippin' Franklin, and the talent that can't be denied, and however familiar the trail, that is still one mountainous talent that one has to try and duplicate.

It's got to be a daunting task to play Aretha Franklin, but Jennifer Hudson is up to it. You can quibble with the sound (maybe, but, jeez' she's as close as you can come), and she's got Franklin's speaking voice and demeanor down. It's like director John Milius said about casting Arnold Schwarzenegger for Conan the Barbarian: "If we didn't use him, we'd have to BUILD one!" That's how tough it is. Franklin's in our shared musical DNA—one of the voices in our collective heads. Doing an imitation will get you through a song, but not a full-length movie, and Hudson barrels her way through it and does the hardest work with her eyes. Look, if Rami Malik can win an Oscar for Freddie Mercury, Hudson should be a sure thing for this performance, both acting AND singing an indomitable role. Let's just give it to her NOW.

And now, Aretha Franklin...