Based on the long-running Broadway musical, Dreamgirls tells a story that is loosely based on the Supremes and the rise of Motown in the 60s and 70s, as churchy soul morphed into pop R&B and disco. “The Dreams,” as they are called, are made up of fresh-faced Deena (Beyoncé Knowles), vocal strength Effie (Jennifer Hudson) and third-wheel Lorrell (Anika Noni Rose). The girls, shepherded by sleazy manager Curtis Taylor Jr. (Jamie Foxx), gain exposure as backup for a James Brown-esque soul legend, James “Thunder” Early (Eddie Murphy), though it soon becomes clear to Taylor that there is more money in the youthful, malleable Dreams. And so The Dreams are made marquee, as Early is abandoned to a drug-riddled decline, and soon the girls are worldwide chart-topping sensations. Unfortunately for the slightly plus-size Effie, her standout voice is not enough to keep her in the group, increasingly about a sexy commercial package that can survive the Ed Sullivan era of televised music. And so Taylor pushes Effie out of the group, though she doesn’t leave quietly (you have to clap after Effie’s wrenching performance of “And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going”).
The casting of the film is one of its most compelling aspects. Beyoncé as Deena is a no-brainer. Ms. Knowles is the Diana Ross of her day—the consummate diva and sure-fire standout from her own Supremes-esque trio (the now defunct Destiny’s Child). Interestingly, Deena’s main goal in the third act of the film is to become a crossover film actress, much like Beyoncé’s real-life career as she’s maneuvered to become a leading cinematic star as well as an iconic singer. Eddie Murphy’s Early is the comedic soul man whose time has passed as the landscape of commercial music swiftly changes. Murphy the comedic actor is himself arguably part of a former era—somewhat of a pop culture throwback to a pre-Chris Rock/Dave Chapelle era. Jamie Foxx, as the capitalistic Berry Gordy character with an eye for what white people want, may not be as villainous and soulless as his character, but one cannot help but see similarly calculated traits of ambition and opportunism in Foxx (who initially turned down the role because the price wasn’t right).
And then there’s Jennifer Hudson …
Every superlative praise and gushing description of her turn as Effie has already been offered up, and most of it is deserved. Hudson, the memorable early castoff of American Idol season one (a much publicized fact, in lieu of Hudson’s sudden high profile), is exacting her revenge with a comeback velocity even Rocky Balboa could admire. Like Effie, Hudson’s dream—and obvious talent—was snubbed by the masses in favor of prettier, more commercial faces (Kelly Clarkson was an obvious triple platinum from day one); And so Hudson, like Effie, took a back seat for a while, watching Idol star after star gain fame and fortune. But she persisted, and, like any diligent American with an ambitious heart, fought for her second chance.
In Dreamgirls, Hudson took her second chance opportunity and did not let go. She squeezed all the life and passion and beauty out of Effie’s character as possible, leaving us with a performance that is—though not perfect—remarkable in its show-stopping vitality. Hudson is a natural performer who feels the music and recognizes its power to do more than just sell records. That is who she is; and that is why Effie feels so real.
Perhaps this is why I am somewhat troubled by the way that Hudson’s performance has been ravenously marketed by the media as a “surefire Oscar” commodity. It is not that I don’t want—or think—Hudson should get awards; it’s just a shame that her performance was so quickly coopted by the E! buzz machine and turned into a vehicle by which the luminous young ingénue might win a coveted trophy.
But in many ways this is what Dreamgirls is all about: taking something that has internal truth, emotion and complexity and turning it into something with external marketplace value. The film shows how, in the face of capitalism’s parasitic nature, even the most honest music can be tarnished in the process of turning it into a product for consumer audiences. A key point in the film is when Effie’s first solo record, the heartfelt ballad “One Night Only,” is stolen by Foxx’s character and re-worked as a disco dance number for Deena and the Dreams. We see both versions of it performed, with Effie singing it in a lonely Chicago nightclub and the Dreams performing it with massive lights, disco balls and backup dancers. Effie’s version of the song is better, of course, but it is not the one that becomes a hit. It is more memorable, however, and meaningful to the handful of life-weary listeners more interested in a song of truth than a song of style.
As good as Dreamgirls is in showing the unfortunate natures of pop culture and whisking us through two decades of popular American fads, fashions and sounds, the film is certainly not perfect. The holdover act breaks from the Broadway version feel disruptive in the film version—a testament to the dangers of adapting stage to screen too faithfully (Rent and The Producers suffered from this). Indeed, for a movie musical to work in the 21st century it needs to be expressly cinematic, taking advantage of the unique aesthetics of cinema (film editing, for example, was a well-utilized mechanism of Moulin Rouge). Additionally, Dreamgirls’ array of song and dance numbers sometimes feels superfluous and even annoying. Songs are jazzed up and filled with dizzying amounts of visual and sonic flair, drowning out emotion and sometimes intelligible lyrics in the process. The best songs in the film are Effie’s and Early’s, the ones least corrupted by slick production and pop pyrotechnics. These are the ones that James Brown and Aretha Franklin would get up and dance to, even if the teen dreams of the day demand something a bit easier to swallow and softer on the soul.
