Watching Rudi Dolezal and Nick Broomfield’s warts and all documentary about the first and only artist to release seven consecutive number one singles in the American charts (surpassing even The Beatles and the Bee Gees who mustered an impressive but second-placed six), one word struck a chord: “moldable”.

Moldable by her domineering mother Cissy who called the shots and shaped her career. Moldable by the legendary record producer Clive Davis who wanted to turn a black girl from the hood brought up on a diet of gospel and R&B into a “pop princess” along the lines of Barbra Streisand who would appeal to and be accepted by the masses, ie white America – “anything that was black-sounding was sent back to the studio”.

Moldable by bi- and homophobic attitudes within the church, the black community and wider society which forced her to bury or deny her feelings towards her childhood friend and creative director Robyn Crawford because: “Female homosexuality in the black community is never spoken about. Black men, yes. Black women, no. Even now.” And Moldable by her husband and self-proclaimed “original bad boy” of R&B Bobby Brown who “gave her acceptance” but walked her down the aisle of drug and alcohol addiction which led to her premature but predictable death at the age of 49.

Comparisons with Asif Kapadia’s heart-breaking and Oscar-wining documentary Amy are inevitable. The obvious answer to which is that though Whitney: Can I Be Me is a riveting watch, it lacks the intimacy and creativity of the former which got under the skin of its subject to such an extent that we felt as though we had walked the proverbial mile in her shoes. Furthermore, it rarely focused on her USP: her voice! That said, for the most part, Whitney gave very little away or brushed off awkward or intrusive questions with a winning smile or an evasive joke. Hence why a close friend described her as “sort of strange” when she kept news of her appearance on the front page of Seventeen a secret. Hence the film’s title, one of the star’s favourite catchphrases, which begs the question: who was the real Whitney Houston?

Fame, she admitted, did not bring her happiness. Neither did money. Nor her relationship with Bobby Brown. And alcohol and drugs, however enjoyable at the time (“our shit was mother fucking hot”), compounded her misery. If only she had taken her bodyguard David Roberts’s advice to “dispose of the personnel” who were dragging her down. If only she had sought professional help earlier and been able to stay clean or at the very least cut back on her intake. If only she had found a loving relationship on a par with the bond she shared with her “closest confidante” and “twin” Robyn Crawford. If only.

To which I would add: if only Rudi Dolezal and Nick Broomfield had focused more on her thrilling voice whose a capella opening to I Will Always Love You (a suggestion from Kevin Costner by the way, not her record producer David Foster) is nothing short of astounding. But perhaps three lines from Home, the first song she performed on American television, says it all: “And just maybe I can convince time to slow up / Giving me enough time in my life to grow up / Time be my friend, let me start again.”

Directors: Nick Broomfield, Rudi Dolezal
Writer: Nick Broomfield
Stars: Whitney Houston, Bobbi Kristina Brown, Bobby Brown
Peter Callaghan
Latest posts by Peter Callaghan (see all)