CADILLAC RECORDS [R]
review by Robert Nesti

One of the pivotal songs in 2006’s “Dreamgirls” is “Cadillac Car,” a doo-woppish ode to the status of the luxury car to various cultures in 1950s America. There are plenty of Cadillacs in Cadillac Records, many used anachronistically as its story moves from the early 1940s the late 1960s in telling the story (as “Dreamgirls” did) of the rise of a record label for black artists and pop music. Certainly the cars perform the same function as they did in the song from the earlier film — sleek and elegant, ownership of the finned vehicles meant that you were indeed a star.

In the film, written and directed by Darnell Martin, Cadillacs and stardom are intrinsically linked in the career of Muddy Waters (Jeffrey Wright), the great bluesman who established Chess Records with his raucous blues guitar. He was paid in Cadillacs by Leonard Chess (Adrien Brody), the owner of the record company who got rich while Waters got famous. That is pretty much the story to this enormously enjoyable film, which lets plot and character development take a back seat to fine acting and copious musical interludes.

As it turns out, it isn’t a problem because there’s never a dull moment in Martin’s incident-filled scenario, which follows how Waters and Chess came together in postwar Chicago and formed an artistic collaboration that lasted two decades. In the film, Chess takes a chance on Waters, whose electrified blues was as close to rock and roll as music would get prior to Alan Freed; and the chance pays off: Waters churns out hit after hit and Chess pays him off with a string of Cadillac cars.

Waters also brings talented harmonica player Little Walter (Columbus Short) into the Chess family, as well as an electrified country singer named Chuck Berry (Mos Def), helping to establish a fresh, raw sound that would influence 1960s pop groups as the Beach Boys (who virtually stole one of Berry’s songs note-by-note) and The Rolling Stones (who make a cameo appearance in the film). Add to this roster such artists as Howlin’ Wolf (Eamonn Walker), Willie Dixon (Cedric the Entertainer) and, most tellingly, Etta James (Beyoncé Knowles) and there’s the making of a superb jam session of a movie.

And it is — the artful impersonations of these musical greats all but jump off the screen — Jeffrey Wright’s quiet, sensual take on Waters; Short’s hot-blooded Little Walter, Mos Def’s playful Chuck Berry and Knowles’s explosive Etta James. The story around them may seem old hat with a clichéd narration and sketchy characterizations, but it seems little more than an excuse to let these stars shine.

Wright conveys Waters’s transformation from naïve Mississippi sharecropper to sexy, urbanized pop star with considerable subtlety and force. He could easily be eclipsed by Short’s electrifying turn as the out-of-control Little Walter, but manages to bring a sense of gravity to the film that holds it together. Mos Def’s somewhat comic take on Chuck Berry may be another of the film’s numerous meanders, but it so much fun to watch that it hardly matters. There’s also an intriguing stand-off between Walker’s blues great Wolf and Waters when Wolf moves in on Waters’s girl during a recording session. Interestingly, it is Wolf who articulates that Leonard Chess may have exploited Waters over the years. “His job is to make money off you,” he tells Waters. “You’re from Mississippi. I thought you would have known that.”

Perhaps if Martin had more fully realized Leonard Chess (who is a composite of the real-life brothers Phil and Leonard Chess). She pretty much portrays him as a mensch, though one willing to indulge in payola to get his records on the radio; so when the question of his exploiting his charges finally comes to the film’s surface, it lacks much resonance. You like this guy, especially in the likeable person of Adrien Brody who’s laid-back charm makes a nice counterpoint to the more emotionally volatile performers.

The film is nearly two-thirds over when Knowles appears, but what an entrance — she’s set up to be Chess’s date for a night in a hotel room; that is until she starts to sing and a star is born. As the great blues singer Etta James, Knowles never stoops to mimicry, yet captures the fulsome rawness that the singer brought to her songs. Knowles offers an impeccable version of James’ biggest hit “At Last,” then tops herself with an amazingly felt “I’d Rather Go Blind,” a powerful blues that, oddly enough, serves the same function as “I Am Telling You…” does in “Dreamgirls”: pop star gets jilted by record label owner. Though her character isn’t as fully drawn as it might be (indeed, this film would have needed to be a mini-series to give its rich tapestry the depth it needs), she makes for a vivid presence. Anyone expecting the porcelain princess from “Dreamgirls” is in for a happy revelation: Beyoncé acts with the temperament of an operatic diva — volatile, passionate and wonderfully believable.

“Cadillac Records” has enough verve and power to fill in the gaps in its screenplay — it may tell a familiar story, but does so with such a high entertainment quotient that you’ll likely never mind.•••

Robert Nesti is the national arts editor for the national network EDGE.