InRO Weekly — Volume 1, Issue 1

FILM REVIEWS
focus is equally dispensed amongst all participants. The Solés
live with the very reminder of what they may lose, a rather
poignant development, which is what makes the most relaxed of
scenes also the most enjoyable, and meaningful; they convey all
that the verbal disputations can’t.
However, the demands of contemporaneous realism trip up the
more patient — even spiritual — pastoralism of Alcarràs. The
rapport of the extended family is as warm as it is believably
strained, so a few of Simón’s efforts to delineate the variety of
viewpoints are unfortunately redundant, rendering characters as
brief stock-types, especially the brother-in-law who tries to
ingratiate himself into the Pinyols. The director’s own narrative
motivations sit uneasily atop those of the characters; these are
the intervals where the film, purporting to be of a documentary
quality, comes off as unbearably written. But then there’s the
closing shot, an image of such unceremonious perfection, and
the fitful heaviness of the directorial hand is, at least to some
degree, justified. — PATRICK PREZIOSI
DIRECTOR: Carla Simón CAST: Jordi Pujol Dolcet, Anna Otin,
Xenia Roset, Albert Bosch, Berta Pipó DISTRIBUTOR: MUBI IN
THEATERS: January 6 RUNTIME: 2 hr. 0 min.
I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY
Kasi Lemmons
When Kasi Lemmons made her directorial debut with the 1997
Southern Gothic masterpiece Eve's Bayou, it likely wouldn't have
occurred to people that she would eventually be reduced to
working on by-the-numbers fare like I Wanna Dance with
Somebody, the latest cinematic equivalent of a Wikipedia article
— this one based on the life of Whitney Houston. Lemmons's film,
adapted from a script by Bohemian Rhapsody screenwriter
Anthony McCarten, is a slipshod attempt at cleaning up the
legendary songstress' image and legacy, all while scrubbing away
the messier aspects of her humanity. As such, even I Wanna
Dance with Somebody's decision to not focus on Houston's
scandal-ridden later years feels cynical, a transparent effort by
her estate, which participated in the project, not to rehabilitate
her as much as make her marketable again — a process which is
already in motion, with a line of cosmetics and a variety of Funko
POP! Figurines.
It's unfortunate, but the rote filmmaking on display here couldn't
be further removed from the layered sensitivity that has marked
Lemmons's previous work — even her somewhat formulaic 2019
Harriet Tubman biopic Harriet drew out some memorable
performances from its cast. I Wanna Dance, by contrast, plays
more like a glorified clip show where none of the actors are given
room to breathe. Naomi Ackie manages to wring a surprising
amount of depth out of the clichéd material, but her co-stars,
including Stanley Tucci and the woefully underemployed Ashton
Sanders, are completely suffocated under a barrage of shoddily
conceived and assembled scenes, filled with tropes that would
have felt stale a decade ago.
The film opens at the 1994 American Music Awards, where
Whitney Houston (Ackie) is preparing to deliver her famous
medley of "I Loves You, Porgy," "And I Am Telling You I'm Not
Going," and "I Have Nothing," obviously setting up what will come
to represent the peak of her musical career — her own 1985 Live
Aid moment, so to speak. After the title card, the audience is
taken to 1983, where a young Whitney dazzles a New Jersey
church congregation with her raw vocal talent. Led with a firm
but loving hand by her mother, Cissy Houston (Tamara Tunie) —
an accomplished singer in her own right — Whitney eventually
manages to secure a record deal after her extraordinary
performance of George Benson's "The Greatest Love of All"
impresses record producer Clive Davis (Stanley Tucci). However,
the ensuing success proves difficult to navigate, and Whitney is
forced to contend with accusations of selling out, her
overbearing father John (Clarke Peters), who also works as her
manager, and a strained and abusive marriage to R&B singer
Bobby Brown (Ashton Sanders).
Much like he did with Freddie Mercury — Bohemian Rhapsody
played down the Queen frontman's queerness in favor of a more
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