Review: Questlove's Earth, Wind & Fire Documentary Shines at the 25th Tribeca Film Festival
Film critic Dwight Brown reviews the new Earth, Wind & Fire documentary directed by Questlove at the 25th Tribeca Film Festival, finding a well-crafted celebration of one of music's most significant bands that follows a familiar formula but delivers illuminating depth on Maurice White's genius, his flaws and the group's enduring cultural power.
“When you wish upon a star, your dreams will take you very far, yeah.” The lyrics from Earth, Wind & Fire’s Grammy-winning song “Shining Star” couldn’t be more appropriate for the band, this joyous documentary or the festival that hosts it.
As the Tribeca Film Festival marks its 25th anniversary, there are plenty of reasons to celebrate. And who better to ignite the festivities than the world’s most happy-go-lucky house band? Oscar-winning music documentarian Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson (“Summer of Soul”) judiciously brings the backstory of the 57-year-old R&B, funk, soul, jazz fusion, pop and Afro-pop group into the spotlight.
Questlove has assembled a tight technical crew. Editors Matt Cascella, Jessica Miller, Andrew Morrow and Timothy Ziegler piece together concert footage, old interviews, new ones and testimonials that lift the veil. What went on backstage behind the fancy pyrotechnic shows? Who was zooming who? The well-paced film examines bandleader Maurice White’s creativity and his domineering leadership style while following the changing cast of band members whose numbers grew and shrank over time. Cinematographer Emily Topper’s unobtrusive lens never intrudes but is placed exactly where it needs to be.
Some viewers will embrace the bright shiny superstars who share their personal opinions of White, the band and the group’s significance as a cultural phenomenon. Getting Barack Obama and Michelle Obama’s perspectives is a coup. Adding thoughts from Stevie Wonder, whose famous song “I Wish” was influenced by EW&F’s “Shining Star,” provides a link between greats. Hearing H.E.R., Flea, Booker T. and Lionel Richie reflect on the group’s significance is enlightening, too. The testimonials to the band’s originality, musical genius, Afrocentric perspective and staying power are impressive, if fairly standard for music documentaries.
None of the aforementioned need to do a hard sell. The music and electric performances do that. It’s hard not to want to turn the bedroom lights down low when “After the Love Has Gone” comes on. Everyone jumps out of their seats when “September” cranks up. And anyone who hears the harmony on “Boogie Wonderland” is filled with unbridled joy.
Solid documentaries delve into the good and the bad. This one does that fairly well. It recollects the group founder’s beginnings and ingenuity alongside his reckless behavior and superstar complex. Few may remember that White was once a drummer for the Grammy-winning Ramsey Lewis Trio. From 1966 to 1970, White was the percussionist, Cleveland Eaton was on bass and Lewis on piano. That background solidified White’s musicianship, and glimpses of those days reveal that he was surprisingly bashful at the idea of standing in front of a mic. What a metamorphosis… from shy guy to brassy, bossy lead singer, futuristic thinker, ethereal soul man and the ultimate showman.
Band members including singer Philip Bailey, younger brother and bassist Verdine White and drummer-turned-singer Ralph Johnson fill in the missing details: the spaces between Grammy wins, worldwide touring, recording and mercurial evolution. Viewers learn the hard, cold facts of artists’ lives in a business that didn’t always treat them fairly or pay them well. Broke? Sometimes. Deep in debt? Yes. The band members tell all, and not all of it flatters White’s management skills, husbanding or fathering. It’s the kind of depth you’d find in a Rolling Stone feature, sobering and illuminating, yet fun. White: “I wanted to reach a universal audience.” Jimmy Jam: “You’re thinking they’re coming from Africa or outer space.”
Questlove relies heavily on the familiar music-documentary formula of archival footage, celebrity commentary and retrospective interviews. The approach works but rarely surprises. He exhibits a steady hand and pulls together the right artists, footage and moments. Still, a bit less of the Obamas, who had EW&F perform at their inauguration party, and a bit more from musicians more integral to the group might give this documentary more credibility and less fluff. Legendary clothing designer Bill Whitten, who gave the group its iconic space-age look, is barely a footnote. Whitten is deceased, but his influence was major and his costumes helped establish the band’s Afrofuturistic sensibilities. He, like others, deserved more screen time. It also wouldn’t hurt if the film simply went by “Earth, Wind & Fire” rather than its tongue-twisting subtitle, which feels more confusing than illuminating.
This documentary treads much of the same territory as Questlove’s Sly Stone film “Sly Lives! (aka the Burden of Black Genius),” similar recollections of pioneering funk and soul bands with great crossover appeal. That’s an observation, neither pro nor con. Just true. Questlove has become the preeminent Black music archivist. That’s a blessing and a great responsibility. This is one more precious addition to his ever-expanding library.
In the end, nostalgia and celebration will envelop all who see and listen, especially baby boomers and Gen Xers who can mark milestones in their lives by EW&F hits. A “shining star comes into view and shines its watchful light on you, yeah.” It also shines at the 25th Tribeca Film Festival.
For more information about the Tribeca Film Festival, visit tribecafilm.com. For more from film critic Dwight Brown, visit DwightBrownInk.com.
