Superlative Performances Elevate Solid, Episodic Biopic

Rating: 8/10 (20 February 2006)

At this point, it seems superfluous to say Jamie Foxx gives a brilliant, surprisingly nuanced performance as Ray Charles, as he not only mimics the singer's mannerisms flawlessly but also provides texture and depth to the pained man underneath. It's startling to see Foxx perform at the piano in that idiosyncratic spasmodic style that Charles had, as the actor very often becomes indistinguishable from the legend. In the private moments also depicted here, Foxx is amazingly perceptive about the troubled, hard-shelled, often nasty man Charles apparently was in real life. Hardly the image one remembers from the Pepsi commercials or his other frequent, sometimes ridiculous TV appearances...anyone remember he was in several episodes of "The Nanny"? But the movie is not about the deconstruction of Ray Charles. In fact, director/writer Taylor Hackford and co-writer James L. White have written a literate, often powerful screenplay that makes us understand the complexity behind Charles' genius and the reasons for his inner demons. The challenge is that in order to remain true to his life story, Hackford and White have overstuffed the movie with so many milestone moments that it becomes episodic and sometimes rather wearing, especially when it comes to the film's depiction of Charles' two-decade heroin addiction. The sight of Charles shooting up and denying his addiction becomes almost a repetitive plot device, as if to provide melodramatic filler between the triumphant moments when he conquers musical frontiers that initially meet with resistance. That's not to say there aren't strong, compelling moments, as there are many. Ironically, one of the most memorable has nothing to do with Foxx but depicts a moment in Charles' hardscrabble Georgia childhood when little Ray trips over a chair and screams for his mother. Wordlessly, he picks himself up and becomes attuned to the sounds around him, picking up a cricket and realizing his mother is right in front of him. It's a transcendent moment.
Hackford is not the most subtle of filmmakers (he made the over-the-top "The Devil's Advocate" among others), and unfortunately his exaggerated sense of melodrama creeps in now and then, in particular, the last section when he decides to go for a 1960's movie-style approach to drug rehabilitation and inserts a fantasy scene back to Charles' childhood that provides pat closure to his long-standing issues. It's an oddly surreal Hollywood-style scene that I feel betrays the honesty of what was presented before. But sometimes Hackford's excessiveness works in his favor, as in the supposedly improvised way that classics like "What'd I Say?" and "Hit the Road, Jack" were composed. I also think he does an effective job in making racism an inherent part of the story, not just a pointed plot device, specifically in showing how much of the manipulation Charles experienced in his career was not at the hands of white promoters. The movie also highlights Charles' decision not to play an unsegregated venue in Georgia and revisits that decision in a coda that takes place years later.
Beyond Foxx, there is a gallery of superlative performances, especially by a trio of fine actresses. Kerry Washington is superb as Charles' wife Della Bea providing strength and tolerance in the face of her husband's drug addiction and constant adultery. Regina King plays backup singer Margie Hendricks, Charles' on-the-road mistress, with her requisite sass but with a penetrating desperation. Best of all is Sharon Warren, who portrays Charles' proud mother Aretha in flashbacks that make you understand where Charles got his courage and unbridled fury. Also providing excellent support are C.J. Sanders as the young Ray, who witnesses his young brother's accidental drowning and faces his impending blindness, and Clifton Powell as Charles' right-hand man Jeff Brown. The more well-known figures are played gamely though less memorably by Larenz Tate as an ambitious, very young Quincy Jones; Curtis Armstrong as an overly measured Ahmet Ertegun; and Richard Schiff as an anxious Jerry Wexler. At 153 minutes, the movie is rather long, and because of its episodic nature, stops rather abruptly in 1966 when Charles' personal and private lives seem to gain equilibrium. Regardless, the wondrous Foxx elevates this film biopic into something quite extraordinary.
The two-disc DVD package has several extras worth noting. On the first disc, the chief addition is fourteen scenes deleted in the theatrical version that have been spliced into the version here and notated accordingly. Some provide interesting context to the story, though they sometimes slow the pacing, a problem coupled by the addition of dead pauses that hurt the overall quality of the viewing experience. All told, the extended version clocks in at a staggering 178 minutes. Taylor Hackford's commentary on the alternate audio track is informative but on the perfunctory side (I only wish Foxx could have added his perspective and can only dream what Charles could have contributed had he lived long enough to "see" the film's release.) On the second disc, those fourteen deleted scenes show up individually, and there are also three featurettes. The first is the obligatory making-of short, "A Look Inside Ray", which includes comments by the filmmakers and actors on making the film. The next short, "Walking in His Shoes", is about the meeting between Foxx and Charles before his death and discusses how Foxx got under the skin of the character. The last, "Ray Remembered", is a quick tribute to the spirit of Charles by those who loved and admired him.