Soul Power in Overdrive
‘Mr. Dynamite: The Rise of James Brown,’ on HBO
There
is one interview I remember from my early days as a reporter, and I
often recite a line from it because it’s the best answer I’ve ever
gotten and ever will get. Naturally, it came from James Brown.
It
was in 1989, at the dark, wrong end of Brown’s career, when he was in
prison for, among other things, capping a long bout of partying with a
high-speed chase through Georgia and South Carolina that ended only
after police officers shot out his tires.
I was a Time magazine reporter, and he was working in the prison cafeteria. The warden let me wave through a window at Brown, inmate No. 155413,
as he wiped down tables in a cook’s white coat and cap, embellished by
purple wraparound sunglasses and matching scarf. Brown was allowed to
speak by phone.
I didn’t even know where to begin, so I asked how he was feeling.
“I’m well rested now,” he said, and waited a beat. “But I miss being tired.”
That reply is almost reason enough for watching “Mr. Dynamite: The Rise of James Brown,” an HBO documentary directed by Alex Gibney,
on Monday night. But there are plenty of others. This is a smart,
informative and compassionate look at the artist known as the Godfather
of Soul, whose music changed America.
And you can dance to it.
Brown, who died in 2006, was a fascinating and confounding figure. Just this year, he inspired a biographical movie, “Get On Up,”
with Chadwick Boseman as Brown, and there have been a steady stream of
biographies, including two memoirs that he wrote with co-authors.
He
was a magnetic, kinetic master of R&B, soul and funk, with roots in
gospel and big-band music. He was a beloved performer and an often
terrible boss and violent husband. (His third wife, Adrienne Lois
Rodriguez, told me he once laid out her mink coat on the bed and then
shot it.) He played an important role at critical moments in the civil
rights movement and also shocked his fans by supporting Richard M. Nixon
in 1972.
Of course, there is also the music.
The film opens with Brown sweating through a muscle T-shirt and chanting the opening words of “Soul Power” to a frenzied audience at the Olympia in Paris in 1971.
The
narrative threads his scratch-poor boyhood dancing for nickels in the
segregated South to his lasting influence on rock, hip-hop and rap. The
film doesn’t dwell on his sad last days, but it does address his many
contradictions — personal, musical and political. All of it is set to
the beat of his music, which gets the last word.
The
Rev. Al Sharpton, who was a friend and protégé and contributed to one
of Brown’s memoirs, tries to explain why his hero supported Nixon.
“James Brown believed in bootstrap economics, lift yourself up,” he
says, “so the appeal of Richard Nixon, which was a total, total atrocity
to me, but to James Brown it was black capitalism.”
The camera cuts to Brown performing “I Don’t Want Nobody to Give Me Nothing.”
Mick
Jagger, a producer of “Mr. Dynamite,” also has a lot to say about
Brown, an artist he copied early in his career. Mr. Jagger, of the
Rolling Stones, has the grace to admit his debt, saying he tried “to
steal everything I could possibly do.” But he also uses the occasion to
correct a legend about “The T.A.M.I. Show,” a performance feature film
shot in 1964, when the Stones followed Brown and were upstaged by his electrifying performance.
Michael Veal, a musician and author, says he heard that while Brown
blew up the room, Mr. Jagger stood watching on the side of the stage,
“just being devastated and traumatized.”
Mr.
Jagger says that although Brown did indeed “kill,” the concert was
filmed as a movie, which was heavily cut and edited, and that the
Stones’ performance was filmed hours later with a different audience.
(In fairness, the Stones’ rendition of “It’s All Over Now” at that concert does not seem nearly as insipid and embarrassing as Gerry and the Pacemakers’ singing of “How Do You Do It?”)
Some
of the most revealing moments come from the memories of less famous
friends and colleagues, including Bobby Byrd, the musician who took in
Brown when he got out of jail at 20 and who founded what was eventually
known as Brown’s backup group, the Famous Flames. Other musicians who
played in Brown’s band express joy and pride in their work and also deep
disappointment with a boss who was aloof, a loner and a bit of a
skinflint.
One
time, when band members gathered to confront Brown, he stormed out.
Another time, when band members said they were fed up, Brown brought a
group of new musicians onto the stage, where the current band members
were already preparing to play: It was their cue that they were all
dispensable.
He
was an important, thrilling voice during the civil rights struggles of
the 1960s. After Brown performed in Mississippi, Dick Gregory said,
“This is black power, baby.” And Brown played a heroic role in Boston in
1968 right after the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was killed. He
went on with a scheduled concert and persuaded the enraged and
distraught audience, and the entire city, to stay calm.
Not
everything about him was admirable. Mr. Sharpton gets the
second-to-last word, explaining, “What was his negative may have ended
up being his strength.”
Last and best comes Brown, performing back when he felt good because he was feeling tired.
Correction: October 28, 2014
A television review on Monday about the documentary “Mr. Dynamite: The Rise of James Brown,” on HBO, misidentified the person who said “This is black power, baby” after a performance by Brown in Mississippi. Although the HBO transcript identifies the speaker as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the comment was by the comedian Dick Gregory, who also attended the concert; it was not made by Dr. King.
A television review on Monday about the documentary “Mr. Dynamite: The Rise of James Brown,” on HBO, misidentified the person who said “This is black power, baby” after a performance by Brown in Mississippi. Although the HBO transcript identifies the speaker as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the comment was by the comedian Dick Gregory, who also attended the concert; it was not made by Dr. King.
The Rise of James Brown
HBO, Monday night at 9, Eastern and Pacific times; 8, Central time.
Directed by Alex Gibney; Mr. Gibney, Dan Brooks, Mike Singer and Eric Weider, executive producers; Mick Jagger, Victoria Pearman, Peter Afterman and Blair Foster, producers.
