Jordin Sparks (left) and the late Whitney Houston star in the lackluster “Sparkle.”
Depending on your depth of feeling about Whitney Houston, the Motown-era musical “Sparkle” will either feel like a fond (and sometimes cringe-inducing) farewell to an old friend, or a wholly unremarkable entry in the already overcrowded star-is-born genre.
Houston, who shot the film just a few months before her death in February, does get her moment of glory in a scene so pointed, I find it hard to believe it wasn’t re-edited after she died. Standing at the front of a church, clad in a royal-purple cape and flanked by stained glass and a full choir, the late singer belts out — in a voice substantially huskier than in her “Bodyguard” days — that she’s “singing because I’m happy.” At my screening, I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. If you’re still mourning Houston’s death, it’s almost enough of a reason to go.
But it does little to redeem the rest of this plodding story, which often seems like a flat, straightforward Supremes biopic in its adherence to seemingly pointless scenes and exposition. Director Salim Akil (“Jumping the Broom”), working from a screenplay by his wife, Mara Brock Akil (TV’s “The Game”), gets the retro visuals just right, and some stage performances do, well, sparkle. But they’re too few and far between, surrounded by cardboard dialogue (“I’ll sign them!” shouts Curtis Armstrong, as a Columbia records exec, watching the group backstage) and a now-well-worn “Behind the Music” trajectory.
The remake of a 1976 film starring a young Irene Cara, it’s the story of three sisters, Sparkle (“American Idol” winner Jordin Sparks), Sister (British actress Carmen Ejogo) and Dolores (Tika Sumpter, a real pistol who should have gotten more screen time). They try to make it as a girl group in the burgeoning Detroit Motown scene of 1968 (updated from the setting of the original, 1950s Harlem).
Cee Lo Green pops up as a club performer early on, confirming that musically, it’s the era in which he really belongs — and that he rocks a smoking jacket like nobody’s business.
Houston, the girls’ churchgoing single mother, Emma, “used to be a professional singer” (the first of many times you’ll flinch!) who turned to substance abuse (flinch again!) before finding God, so they’re doing the singing thing on the down-low, sneaking out to perform in smoky clubs once Mom’s gone to bed.
It’s somewhat hard to believe they pull off these weekly gigs, their star on the rise, without Emma knowing. Or it would be if — I’m sorry, but it’s true! — Houston didn’t look as if she’d just been woken up from a nap nearly every time she’s on camera. No, it’s not hard to believe this person would be a sound sleeper.
Still, Houston does get a few amusing moments in her supporting role, dancing along with a band on TV before snapping it off and commanding the girls’ Bible club to hit the books, or training a steely eye on her daughter being chatted up by a young man after church.
Sparkle, the group’s songwriter, is wooed by their young and handsome manager, Stix (the always-earnest Derek Luke), but worries he’s using her to get closer to sister Sister. She, Sister, in turn, has fallen under the spell of Mike Epps as sleazy TV comedian Satin (what is it with the ridiculous S-names in this town?), who traffics in cheap race-riot jokes and dabbles in hard drugs and domestic violence. When Sister announces at the family’s Sunday dinner that she’s going to marry him, things get ugly, and Houston’s character ends up on the defensive: “I passed out a few times, sure, but you’d never see me laying in my own vomit!” (Wince.)
As the group, Sister and the Sisters, begins to make a name for itself, the film briefly takes off with a series of lively performances; Ejogo is a particularly dynamic and gorgeous singer, and all three young actresses wear the increasingly glam period outfits well.
But eventually, Sister’s bruises and track marks, courtesy of Satin, start to show through the cover-up, and her downfall takes center stage in a way that feels awfully close to a Lifetime TV movie. It’s always telling when viewers giggle during a scene that’s intended to be shocking and tragic, as they did here.
Meanwhile, Dee wisely decides to high-tail it to medical school, and Sparkle is left wondering if she should strike out on her own.
For a movie called “Sparkle,” the absolutely least interesting or central thing about it is Sparkle (and Sparks), although the “Idol” singer does bust out one impressive performance. In any case, I hope not to have to type that name again unless I’m covering a My Little Pony resurgence.