4 stars out of 5
20 Inches From Stardom: I once sat a conference-room table with one of the talking heads in this movie. (Not David Byrne, who does appears in archival footage.) Also, you can see the Hoboken FedEx location in the film.
This is a compelling, sympathetic documentary about backup singers, primarily focusing on African-American women in the 1960s. I’d say that it’s sort of a companion piece to 2002’s Standing in the Shadows of Motown, but, well, I never saw that one.
I generally like my documentaries to be a bit more academic—this happened, then this happened, then this happened—while 20 Feet From Stardom relies a little more on feeling and general trends. Of course, as the story of several not-directly-connected people, that’s the filmmakers’ challenge: Finding commonalities, and pointing out how and why individuals’ tales diverged. Some strived for the spotlight and fell short, while others are simply more comfortable in the background. Add to this the changing times, as opportunities shifted from soul to rock, and ultimately to today’s auto-tuned world. You definitely understand why some have just given up.
Testifying on the singers’ behalf are some big names, notably Bruce Springsteen laying down a lot of his well-earned wisdom and compassion. There’s also Mick Jagger (who seems to have employed and perhaps slept with a high percentage of the women featured in the film), Stevie Wonder, and Sting. That these are all “men of a certain age” says something about new realities in music, and also about the gender dynamic that often played out onstage. But their status also speaks volumes about the deep appreciation that the lead voices have for their backup crews.
The true star here is Darlene Love. The movie easily could’ve just been about her. She’s there at the beginning with the Blossoms, as all-white Perry Como-style background singing gives way to the black-informed pop of the 60s. There’s her Phil Spector years, and the frustration of hearing her lead vocals on hit songs attributed to others. We see her reach for the solo-act gold ring, give up, and then return to the battle—a warrior’s tale. The film focuses on her triumphant annual Letterman performance of “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)”, easily my favorite episode of the year. I certainly got a little verklempt.
Watching this documentary, I realized that I’ve kind of given short shrift to backup singers, and have generally preferred “raw” music without the ooh-ooh-oohs and shoop-doo-wahs. I will absolutely be listening more closely from now on.
Jack Silbert, curator