Movies: I Wanna Dance with Somebody
Kasi Lemmons’s Whitney Houston film’s a tribute and cautionary tale
Advertised as being written for the screen by the same man who wrote Bohemian Rhapsody—an enjoyable, flawed rock star movie which compartmentalized sex from its subject—I Wanna Dance with Somebody deserves an audience. This is probably thanks to its director, filmmaker Kasi Lemmons (Eve’s Bayou, Harriet, Black Nativity). The new Whitney Houston movie grips and holds one’s attention.
Made with approval from the Houston family, the film falters. Lemmons downplays Whitney Houston’s drug addiction, which is obscured until the end. Whitney’s mother, an ex-singer who by most accounts lorded over her daughter with constant pressure to conform and suppress her sexuality, is overromanticized. Giving Whitney’s sanctimonious mother a moral pass is a stain. Lemmons also recreates Whitney’s historic Super Bowl performance of the Star-Spangled Banner without providing the proper context that America was at war—the first president Bush’s war, which was a wrong war—a context which Whitney Houston probably knew, grasped and channeled into a breathtaking display of patriotism.
Whitney Houston—like Elvis, Marilyn, Prince and many other dead artists who struggled with or were addicted to drugs—is an American tragedy. A movie depicting her life and downfall ought to reckon with what caused her self-destruction. I Wanna Dance with Somebody partially, at times carefully, does, demonstrating in subtle shades of black and blue—it’s often a beautiful film to watch—that the powerhouse vocalist and superstar was badly poisoned by wanting to please others. Indeed, altruism is unequivocally portrayed as a cause of Whitney’s death. It’s embedded in the last song of a bravura medley—“I Have Nothing”—the pop star’s final, pre-spiral plea for audience applause and approval. As I wrote when Whitney died—her death still angers and moves me—this artist sadly valued others above herself. Whitney’s faith in family, Christianity and traditionalism crippled her.
I Wanna Dance with Somebody shows the horror of altruism in slow motion. Co-starring Stanley Tucci in another excellent performance as record company businessman Clive Davis, who apparently tried to guide Whitney toward egoism—observe his last, knowing look during that crowd-pleasing medley—Lemmons depicts her rise as a doomed ascent in a career predicated on and contaminated by Other-ism.
Director Lemmons wisely begins showcasing Whitney’s catalogue with a moral counterpoint—an ardent musical affirmation of egoism made possible by Muhammad Ali’s triumphant autobiographical film, The Greatest. I Wanna Dance with Somebody continues with her playful and irresistible breakout hit, “How Will I Know?” and goes on without sugarcoating that, as Americans embraced Whitney’s music, talent and persona, black audiences were urged to hold this bright new pop singer belting out tunes in contempt—Whitney, like Sidney Poitier, was attacked by black dilettantes and ridiculed by blacks at an awards show—and her overbearing parents emotionally abused Whitney, pressuring her to conform, compromise and compress her chosen values into submission. Of course, this compounded her drug abuse.
Naomi Ackie in the leading role captures part of Whitney’s sass and stature, if not her childlike beauty (the singing voice is Whitney’s). As the one person who truly loved Whitney Houston—her secret gay lover, Robyn Crawford—Nafessa Williams delivers a stirring screen performance. Ms. Williams shows the complex, challenging dynamic of today’s gay adult loving someone who’s chosen to repress her sexuality to please—and exist for the sake of—Others. Lesbian rage, pain and love is packed into her portrayal of the loyal, tender, loving partner who was relegated to the wings.
The ghetto recording artist in whom Whitney sought heterosexual—also racial—validation as her macho, straight spouse, Bobby Brown, is also portrayed. This leads to the story’s well-known ending—today marks the date Whitney Houston died at 48—which casts blame on those, including the parents and billionaire celebrity Winfrey, who exploited Whitney (and her daughter, who died shortly after her mother died) with malice and cruelty. Gay Crawford and bisexual Davis (who co-produced this movie) emerge as Whitney’s only true friends. Whitney’s champion, Kevin Costner, whose church eulogy was a profoundly moral, principled tribute, is reduced to a movie clip. Though not homage ala 2022’s magnifient Elvis, I Wanna Dance with Somebody pays tribute to a fallen star. To its credit, the biographical movie focuses on her ability while depicting the arc of a repressed and stifled life, from when Whitney sang an anthem about loving herself as “The Greatest Love of All” to her haunting, pregnant melancholy in “I Will Always Love You” and Whitney’s final fade, which was like an ultimate act of altruism—tantamount to suicide—a submersion in a hotel bathtub on the eve of her industry’s most glamorous event.
Author’s note
In preparation to publish my writings in the future, I’ve deplatformed original writing (not Autonomia’s articles), therefore most of what I’ve written about Whiney Houston, whom I admired and adored (and respected for defying racists of any skin color), is no longer available.
For a limited time, two articles about Whitney—an obituary and an essay I wrote after watching her memorial or funeral service—are available and included in the links below. Print or read them as they won’t always be available online. I own and have yet to read Robyn Crawford’s memoir—Crawford is an author and source I’ve come to trust—and I plan to write about Whitney again; in particular, I want to review one of her last recorded songs. It’s a telling, soulful ballad from her final album. Like Whitney Houston, the gentle melody embroiders itself into the mind.
Author’s articles about Whitney Houston
April 11, 2012: Remember Whitney for Her Ability
February 11, 2012: On Whitney Houston: Dead at 48