3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, sexual candor, drug use, violence and profanity
By Derrick Bang
Rarely has a strong starring
performance been sabotaged so thoroughly by a film’s core structure.
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| During what begins as a casual chat following a successful concert performance, Bobby (Nelsan Ellis, right) makes the mistake of sharing some of his own musical dreams with longtime friend and colleague James Brown (Chadwick Boseman). Big mistake: Of all people, Bobby should have known that in Brown's world, there's only room for one ego. |
Chadwick Boseman impressed us
last year with his dignified, finely shaded portrayal of baseball great Jackie
Robinson, in 42. Boseman is simply
amazing here, as “godfather of soul” James Brown: the voice; the earthy
charisma; the electrifying, bone-defying dance moves; and most particularly the
soul-shattered instability. It’s a performance for the ages.
Too bad it’s buried in such a
clumsy and maladroit package.
One generally blames the director
for the totally of a film; he is, after all, the guy who signs off on every
take, oversees the editing and assembly of words, images and music. I’m
reluctant to do so in this case, because Tate Taylor certainly deserves credit
for coaxing such a galvanic performance from Boseman ... and, to only a
slightly lesser degree, from the equally talented Nelsan Ellis, just a
memorable in a supporting role as Brown’s longtime friend and musical
colleague, Bobby Byrd.
Taylor, after all, guided Octavia
Spencer to an Academy Award for her fine work in The Help, a thoroughly absorbing adaptation of Kathryn Stockett’s
book, which also garnered a Best Picture nod and acting nominations for Viola
Davis and Jessica Chastain. The man clearly knows how to elicit the best from
his actors.
On the other hand, Taylor
obviously didn’t recognize the serious deficiencies in this biographical
portrait. Censure more deservedly goes to scripters Jez Butterworth, John-Henry
Butterworth and Steven Baigelman, for the bewildering and off-putting manner in
which they’ve chosen to tell Brown’s story.
The film begins very poorly, and you’ll likely want to
bolt during the distasteful and downright weird prologue: an incident from late
in Brown’s career, when mental demons have transformed him into an unstable,
potentially dangerous lunatic. This sequence is “expanded” from a real-life
meltdown that led to his arrest in September 1988, and six-year jail term (of
which he served three years).
But absent any context, it’s
impossible to view this scene as anything but disrespectful: a thoroughly
unpalatable introduction to a man who meant so much to the music world. It’s
also not one of Boseman’s better moments; he’s not able to sell Brown’s volatility
in a way that enhances the drama. Even much later, when the narrative has come
full circle to better explain this sequence — and its aftermath — we remain unsatisfied.
Of all the places to begin this
drama, Taylor went with that one?
