Aretha Franklin’s nickname is hidden in plain sight on her 1967 breakthrough hit “Respect.” Coming into the final chorus, her sisters Carolyn and Erma sing “Ree ree ree ree” to kick the song into the stratosphere.
As the new film biography of Aretha — excuse me, Ms. Franklin — establishes in its opening scene, “Ree” was the nickname her father C.L. Franklin gave her as a child. “Come on, Ree,” says Forest Whitaker as the Franklin patriarch. “They want to hear you sing.”
Ree, played by 10-year-old Skye Dakota Turner, belts out a song with a voice that one partygoer describes as “10, but going on 30.”
Musician biopics are always a hard lift. People want to know how their musical idols rose to greatness, but the life of a performing artist is, paradoxically, not terribly cinematic. Sports figures have the big game they won. Generals have triumphs in battle. Musicians and artists, on the other hand, practice in their bedrooms and spend long, boring hours in the recording studio and riding the bus on tour. Their influence seeps through the culture over the course of years. That’s why musician biopics tend to fall into predictable screenwriter shortcuts, which were skewered with pinpoint accuracy by the 2007 comedy Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story.
The other problem with portraying a once-in-a-century talent on-screen is that the actor who is portraying the artist is, by definition, not as talented as their subject. Jamie Foxx is one of the best actors of his generation, but he can’t sing like Ray Charles. This is less of a problem with Respect, as Ms. Franklin is portrayed as an adult by Jennifer Hudson, who has mad chops. Respect is a big step up from Hudson’s last film, Cats, about which the less said the better.
Seriously, don’t watch Cats.
But you should watch Respect if you’re a fan of Aretha Franklin, or just music in general. Franklin’s life story is more twisty than most musicians who have already gotten biopics. (I’m looking at you, The Doors.) She was born in Memphis, and her father was the pastor of the largest African-American Baptist church in Detroit. She grew up in a household where conversations were sung as often as they were spoken. But her mother Barbara (Audra McDonald) left C.L., who was a serial philanderer, and died young; afterward, Aretha refused to speak for months.
Meanwhile, young Aretha’s notoriety in the gospel music world brought the attention of pedophiles in the church, and she had two children before age 15. Her first husband Ted White (Marlon Wayans) was as abusive and controlling as her father. Respect portrays Franklin as a victim of the patriarchy, which brings the true meaning of the song into focus. Written as a playful, yet undeniably sexist, song about marriage by Otis Redding, Franklin turned it on its ear by gender-swapping the protagonist and created an enduring feminist anthem.
For the moment of the song’s creation, which producer Arif Mardin called the greatest studio session of his long career, director Liesl Tommy turned to Hustle & Flow as inspiration. Being a fly on the wall as inspiration strikes makes for compelling cinema, but the film as a whole is wildly uneven. Tommy is an acclaimed theater director who has worked in television, but this is her first feature film, and it shows. She knows how to handle actors: Hudson’s performance borders on brilliance, showing flashes of the traumatized preacher’s kid even as Franklin uses her boundless talent to reclaim her humanity. Whitaker brings out the complexity in C.L. Franklin, who was a confidant of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., as well as being a not-great father. Mary J. Blige has a short but dynamite turn as blues singer Dinah Washington. Marc Maron nails the exasperated record executive Jerry Wexler, who finally gave Franklin the freedom she needed to create masterpieces. But, too often, Tommy turns to clunky scenes straight out of Walk Hard to advance the plot.
Hudson’s singing is as up to the Aretha challenge as anyone on the planet, especially toward the end when she returns to her gospel roots. But it’s significant that when Franklin sings “Respect” at Madison Square Garden, the performance is smooth and stagy. Even in 2021, the real Queen of Soul is too raw for the big screen.