This week, David O. Russell was announced as the director for a Linda Ronstadt biopic starring Selena Gomez as the beloved country rock singer. The viral star power of Gomez and the critical acclaim of Russell, the Oscar-nominated director of Silver Linings Playbook and American Hustle, seems to have automatically thrust the as-yet-untitled biopic into the awards conversation before a single frame has even been shot.
I’m a fan of Russell’s films and have admired Gomez’s career trajectory as an actress; she’s a revelation on Hulu’s Only Murders in the Building and is also a successful musician in her own right, making her a great choice to play Ronstadt. But as the anticipation for the film has risen due to the star wattage attached, it brings to mind how many biopics have been released with far more muted fanfare; recent films, for example, about Whitney Houston and Aretha Franklin arrived with just a whimper.
It begs the question: Are Black biopics given the respect they deserve?
Biopics about pop culture icons have become a Hollywood mainstay in recent years, and very often, become instant awards-show fodder. Bohemian Rhapsody and Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis, for instance, were hyped up as “event films” for months prior to their releases, with their respective stars, Rami Malek and Austin Butler, becoming awards frontrunners. The biopic, musical or otherwise, is a tried and true path to the upper echelons of Hollywood adulation. And just a couple of decades ago, Black-led films like Ray (about Ray Charles) and Ali (about Muhammad Ali) were major Hollywood releases, with Jamie Foxx and Will Smith earning awards and praise for their performances, in blockbuster films that cemented their cinematic reputations.
So many Black biopics of late, meanwhile, have felt rushed, routine, and rote—and it’s worth noting that so many of these films have centered on important Black women, and are often directed by Black women. The budgets, marketing, and production on these movies seem to suggest that studios are giving directors like Kasi Lemmons (I Wanna Dance With Somebody) and Liesl Tommy (Respect) meager resources out of which they are expected to somehow win award-season gold.
Whitney Houston was one of the biggest pop stars of her generation and one of the bestselling singers of all time. I Wanna Dance With Somebody, however, was an underwhelming exercise for such a prominent artist, interspersing so much tragedy within its high-profile story. It wasn’t just the film itself, it was the way the film was presented to the public. There was none of the pomp and pageantry of the Elvis rollout, nor was there the anticipation-stoking media coverage to serve as preamble to the movie’s release. Instead, it arrived in theaters in 2022 with a resounding thud, which is disappointing for a major motion picture about the life of an icon like Houston.
A year earlier, Respect, a film about one of the most iconic women in music, Aretha Franklin, was released, starring Oscar winners Jennifer Hudson as the Queen of Soul and Forest Whitaker as her father, C.L. Franklin. But the movie was another lukewarm, tepidly received affair in both execution and rollout. It arrived right around the same time that the Cynthia Erivo-starring Aretha: Genius biographical series landed on NatGeo. These were two treatments of Aretha’s story in the same year, with neither given the heightened presentation worthy of a woman who forever changed music.
Unfortunately, this problem is nothing new. I remember watching the 2014 James Brown biopic Get On Up at a press screening before the movie hit theaters. Chadwick Boseman’s kinetic performance; a production credit from Mick Jagger; Viola Davis, Dan Aykroyd, Jill Scott, and Octavia Spencer in supporting roles—there was a lot about the film that should have made it a major event and a studio priority. But many of that film’s narrative shortcomings seemed to suggest a shoestring budget: there was no presentation of the fabled “Rumble In The Jungle” concert when Brown performed in Zaire, and his infamous trip to Vietnam was reduced to clips of Boseman as Brown talking to reporters in a room. The movie simply didn’t have the budget to shoot anywhere resembling those locales, and it suffered as a result. When it comes to cinematic legacy, the Godfather of Soul had to settle for a half-baked story.
When Spike Lee was filming his 1992 epic Malcolm X, about the life of the slain civil rights leader, he famously had to recruit Black celebrities to help finish funding the movie he wanted to make. Specifically, Lee didn’t want to have to cut scenes that had to be shot in Mecca and Cairo, and Warner Bros. Pictures refused to fund those secondary shoots. Lee had to go outside of the studio system to make the movie he wanted, which speaks to the difficulty of Black stories being told on a scale worthy of the subject matter. Our history has to have more of an investment than a ’90s ABC “Movie Of The Week,” but it seems that Hollywood still has trouble believing Black stories are worth more than the bare minimum.
Of course, there needs to be a return on the investment; movies have to make money. But one could argue that a film like Elvis becomes a hit not just because of its subject, but because of the approach and the way the film is presented to the public and the press. These movies are supposed to be events. They’re supposed to be prestigious. When you spend the money to hype the film as such, you see a return because audiences see the film as something important as opposed to irrelevant or unnecessary.
As awards season kicks into high gear, and as biopic after biopic fills up Hollywood’s slate (oh, look, Amy Winehouse is next), we need to see Black biopics get their due. When they are given an elevated presentation, as in Ali or Ray, studios see the results—both at the box office and during awards season.
The stories are worth it.
Black Biopics Deserve More Than the Bare Minimum
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22.01.2024
This week, David O. Russell was announced as the director for a Linda Ronstadt biopic starring Selena Gomez as the beloved country rock singer. The viral star power of Gomez and the critical acclaim of Russell, the Oscar-nominated director of Silver Linings Playbook and American Hustle, seems to have automatically thrust the as-yet-untitled biopic into the awards conversation before a single frame has even been shot.
I’m a fan of Russell’s films and have admired Gomez’s career trajectory as an actress; she’s a revelation on Hulu’s Only Murders in the Building and is also a successful musician in her own right, making her a great choice to play Ronstadt. But as the anticipation for the film has risen due to the star wattage attached, it brings to mind how many biopics have been released with far more muted fanfare; recent films, for example, about Whitney Houston and Aretha Franklin arrived with just a whimper.
It begs the question: Are Black biopics given the respect they deserve?
Biopics about pop culture icons have become a Hollywood mainstay in recent years, and very often, become instant awards-show fodder. Bohemian Rhapsody and Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis, for instance, were hyped up as “event films” for months prior to their releases, with their respective stars, Rami Malek and Austin Butler, becoming awards frontrunners. The biopic, musical or otherwise, is a tried and true path to the upper echelons of........
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