Leave it to a brilliant Scot, Kevin Macdonald (The Last King of Scotland) to do a top quality documentary on Whitney Houston. While you may think you know everything you could possibly know or suspect, this doc has a dramatic arc to which I (a huge Whitney fan) was riveted. Macdonald names names and pulls no punches. I do believe even Whitney would be sighing relief at the truth coming out.
Suffice to say, she was not so much an ignorant drug addict and neglectful mother, but a person broken spiritually by abuse.
Does she have culpability in her own demise? Absolutely. However, her parents are just as much to blame. Whitney was better made than the award winning doc on Amy Winehouse. Macdonald was neat and tight in detail, yet thorough in its history telling.
Despite the following distractions, can I just say that while Mr. Rogers can not be beat for his outpouring of love, Whitney the documentary slays Mr. R in that it has much more revealing details than the Won’t You Be My Neighbor including never before seen footage of many of Whitney’s performances including highlights and low lights. I learned a LOT I didn’t know that I won’t spoil. Let’s just say that you wonder whether the root of Whitney’s trouble (and of many people I know personally) doesn’t deserve center stage in research and development of cures/counseling techniques and places designed to help folks heal.
Here’s a news flash for folks approaching a movie theater:
A movie theater is NOT:
a parade. I sat in the front row on purpose, yet out of the corner of my eye I mush have seen at least 10 people walking up an down the stairs. Perhaps they were breaking in a Fitbit, but sit the hell down. Follow my lead, as I think I probably acquired a bladder infection having to urinate after the 35 minutes of previews, but toughed it out not to miss a second of Whitney, the tremendous documentary by .
a chat room. Why can’t you shut the hell up for 120 minutes. Consider it vocal rest. Who would want to utter a sound as Whitney Houston belts her her iconic National Anthem? Apparently the idiots behind me who also had to recline or decline their chairs at least 5 times during the film adding the nails on chalk board flatulence sound they make, leather hitting leather.
a fashion walkway. Some dame had to come in 20 minutes late and instead of ducking under the Disney World maze of walkway to the front row, paraded by us two and half times before landing like a lab trying to find a comfy position on the mantle rug.
