Movie Review: "Get On Up"

"Get On Up": B.  In the late 1960's, there were six days of the year when the city of South Bend was the center of craziness in the Hoosier State.  Those were the  five autumn days when Notre Dame hosted football games, and the day of the annual gig James Brown played in The Bend.  When the Godfather Of Soul hit town, the vibe on Michigan Avenue was electric.  It certainly was not business as usual.  Even though Brown was from Georgia, one would have thought the occasion was the homecoming of a native son.  There is little wonder why Brown made South Bend a regular stop; his fan base there was huge, loyal and rabid.

A common saying in sports is that an athlete "left everything he had on the field."  That description fits Brown's concert performances.  He would be soaked with sweat after the first two numbers, perpetual motion with a beat.  He fed off his audience as much as any entertainer ever has and probably ever will.  He held back nothing, leaving it all on the stage.  That's why he was often referred to as "the hardest working man in show business."

In view of all the foregoing, you can understand why I looked forward to seeing Get On Up, the new Brown biopic.

I'm sure that the two biggest challenges facing director Tate Taylor while planning the movie were, first, finding an actor who had the requisite package of physical energy and stamina plus the acting and vocal chops to portray the emotional singer and dancer; and then, just as importantly, finding a way to film the music so that the movie goers would feel like they were seeing Brown in action live.  Taylor successfully meets those challenges.  Other problems curbed my enthusiasm for the picture, but with respect to those two essential elements, Taylor comes through with flying colors.

First for the good stuff.  Chadwick Boseman is superb in his portrayal of the enigmatic Brown.  The singer could turn on the charm, but within seconds become a jerk, even toward his friends and family.  He slugs his wife for wearing a revealing Santa costume at a Christmas party.  He does not allow anyone to get close to him for long, a characteristic illustrated by his insistence that the members of his band address him as "Mr. Brown."  He thinks nothing of betraying his fellow singers in the Gospel Starlighters, the jail house group which gave him his first break, and the Flames when the music label suggests that he be given separate top billing. (Shades of Diana Ross & The Supremes.)  One of those singers, Bobby Byrd (Nelsan Ellis), unfathomably sticks by Brown, but even he is not exempted from the harsh treatment doled out by the star. Brown attracts women, yet he is clearly a misogynist.  If the film accurately portrays Brown's character, the viewer has to wonder if he suffered from bi-polar disorder or even schizophrenia.  Regardless, Boseman is up to the task of displaying all facets of this talented but troubled singer.

Without question, the best and most enjoyable parts of the movie are the "live show" shots.  I can't think of another film (including documentaries) I've seen in which the moviegoer feels like she's sitting front row center while witnessing an unforgettable concert.  Boseman has all the moves, with his moon walks, twists, hand movements, microphone stand twirling and swaying, always in cadence to his world class backup musicians and always letting loose will full-throated singing. 

Get On Up is not the easiest story line to track.  The time frames of the film's many episodes are randomly sequenced.  One moment we are in present time, then we see James' days as a teenage prisoner, then more present time followed by his pre-teen days when we witness the sorry state of affairs between Brown's parents in their back woods Georgia shack, followed by more present time, etc.  The flashback structure struck me as artificial, not really serving any useful purpose.

Another beef is that the story takes too long to get going.  If director Taylor insisted on eschewing chronological order in unveiling the story arc, he should have opened with one or two of the dazzling performances which we eventually get to experience.  Instead, we are kept waiting, wondering when we are finally going to see what all the commotion was about back in the sixties and seventies.

James Brown was his own man.  Sometimes that worked for him, such as when he insisted that his next album be live instead of a studio record (the former being six times more costly to produce, according to the honchos at his record label), or when he convinces Harlem's Apollo Theater promoter not to cancel his gig immediately following the assassination of Martin Luther King.  But that egotistical trait also got him in major trouble, particularly with the IRS for failure to pay his income taxes.  Brown had many sides, most of which have now been revealed on the silver screen.