Amazing Grace

To watch this movie is to journey between joy and pain. The joy of being able to hear her voice and see her perform as if it was happening right now. To feel the energy. And then the pain of reality...that she is gone and can not be replaced. I hope that this is just one of many to be made about her life and that future productions include a little more of her off-stage life with some minimal narration and analysis. Still, this rendition is deeply moving and I've been listening to her music ever since watching.

I've been waiting all my life to see this movie; I'd read inside the album jacket that it was filmed for Warner Bros., but could never find out where it was! Seeing the movements matching everything I digested on this record was like a dream. For me, the entire concert could've just been Aretha, James Cleveland, and organist Ken Lupper, and it still would've been great. I suppose I can understand why Aretha wanted her band to be present, but it seemed mismatched in this setting.

I saw this film at its world premiere in NY at the NYDoc Fest. The Rev Al Sharpton gave the invocation. And the Great Rev. James Barber further illuminated all of us about the meaning of Arentha's worrying a note. In between was one of the most remarkable, moving, inspiring evenings I have ever spent in any kind of theater ever. Of course, I'm a fan, I do work in the industry, but I'm first a fan of young Aretha's. There was nothing but grace on the screen and the loving community of church. One is blessed to see this film. Period. I just want to add - I would love to know who the absolute genius was that thought of sending Sidney to film this live recording. He or she should receive an Oscar all his or her own.

The thing that marks out this spectacularly honest documentary is Aretha Franklin's melancholia.

It's as if she's been transported there by another being. Her God? She is so in the moment. So devoid of ego, unlike her entourage, as to make it a truly 'religious' experience, not just for her but for the viewer too.

The melancholia manifests itself as a lost look. Separated from the action, the film making onluy there for one reason. To sing.

And there is zero theatrics. Zero showmanship. Zero BS.

Just an honest to goodness outpouring of singing as best as she can muster and her best will just have to be good enough. Cos that's all she's got.I've never seen a music documentary so compellingly believable about the motivations of its maker, that motivation appears to be the love of her God and her fellow humankind.

It's quite remarkable.

It took me nearly 50 years to see this footage. At 72, I wasn't sure I was going to make it. When this album was released, fans of Ms. Franklin flocked to buy it so we could hear her return to her roots: Gospel, not performed on a stage but in the setting where it originated, in two performances gathered at Los Angeles' New Temple Missionary Baptist Church. In the liner note was the teasing notation, "filmed by Warner Brothers," and it was maddening (in days long before the Internet) not to be able to find out when and where it would be released as a film.

Decades later we learned that it was impossible--with technology available then--to sync up the sound with the film footage and the project had been permanently shelved. The young director, Sydney Pollack, hadn't realized each reel needed a time clapboard for editors to find their way in assembling the footage to properly slate with the live sound recording. Not only that, but Franklin never wanted the film footage to be released (there was heavy post-editing in the audio's final release). So it was with a thunderbolt when we heard people had been working frame by frame to put the sound back in sync with the images (when you watch the film, just imagine what it would be like for an editor to be handed a 10 minute reel and be told "guess where this fits in"; and Pollack used 5 cameras to catch all that was going on with a reported 20 hours of unmarked footage).

It's a miracle to have this film in any form, and not only that but that the director(s) stayed out of the way of what was happening, no fancy edits, or commentary. Nothing but this woman transcending herself and her audience into spiritual ecstasy.

The album only hints at what we finally get to experience. But any performance, much less an entire concert by Ms. Franklin from this era is a gift. She's at her peak and her naturally shy demeanor that masks one of the greatest voices in history peels away and without histrionics or showmanship, she becomes an instrument of her faith. It's exhausting to watch; and, if you're so inclined, transforming.

While the filmmakers handle all of this beautifully, the participants intrude (as they do on the recording), trying to upstage the central reason for this performance. Both the Reverends James Cleveland and her father, C.L. Franklin nearly maul Ms. Franklin either physically or with obsequious lengthy praise. In fairness they have every right to show their pride, but it lessens them. (The choir director, Alexander Hamilton serves the evening much better with his graceful shaping of the choir that's almost a dance but it doesn't distract from the either the soloist or the choir.)

Aretha Franklin, with unparalleled poise and professionalism endures it all without a flinch. She's there to do a job, seems oblivious to the cameras, while using a vocal instrument with a power not seen before or since.