"Can I get a bottle of fucking gin?!"

Yes, Darnell Martin's Chess Records biopic is riddled with flaws and oversights (like um, mentioning Phil Chess' existence, but the story of the blues is shrouded in mystery and mythic tales, right?) but the good news, and in my opinion, the most important element to any music bio flick REGARDLESS of script, plot and Hollywood romanticism, is that the music is fantastic. Jeffrey Wright (Muddy Waters) gets my "panties off" vote for his rendition of "Hoochie Coochie Man" and Mos Def's duck walk and twangified lilt pay Chuck Berry his proper dues. Columbus Short (Stomp the Yard) goes toe to toe with Wright for the film's best performance, playing the troubled and destined for tragedy harmonica man Little Walter. Do I think Cadillac Records is a good movie? Not really. But is the music worth the fictitious bullshit? Definitely.

Normally, I would be pissed that they had Little Walter die in Muddy Waters' girlfriend's arms, the only woman who ever cared (when in reality he died in his sleep at the home of one of his own girlfriends), but that's movie magic at it's heart string tugging best. Leonard Chess was NEVER as big of a babe as Adrian Brody played him and his never consummated (except for a passionate make out post an OD) deep love for Etta has never been substantiated. Trite and trumped up for story sake, but who knows, maybe there is an ounce of truth to the romantic notion; after all, Chess really did deed Etta's house back to her right before he died of a heart attack (he had it put in his name so she wouldn't lose it). But nevertheless, when he is holding a heroin addled Etta in his arms in her empty house (which was about to get repo'd) you can cut the sexual tension with a large imaginary knife (side note: Beyoncé's performance as a drug addicted Etta is great, nervous junkie sway and everything. When she mumbles "he fucked up my hair" after Muddy shoves her under the bathtub faucet to wake up, I realized that B's chance of being a real actress is greater than most give her credit for).

I mean, if you want to know the real story of Chess, check out the BBC's The Chess Records Story, which is narrated by Marshall Chess, Leonard's son. Did I feel Q-Tip's cameo as a contemporary rapper who uses the blues as the foundation for his music necessary? No. But then again, neither was the choice to cast the doe eyed and painfully boring Emmanuelle Chriqui as Revetta Chess, Leonard's long suffering wife (bummed that Etta gets all her hubby's attention AND he leaves mid-anniversary love making session to rush to OD'd Etta's side).

Some people are annoyed that the film doesn't use original recordings and the criticism is often aimed at Beyoncé Knowles, who co-executive produced the film (she donated her entire paycheck to a rehab center) because people are cry babies and are offended on Etta's behalf or something. A lot of "but Angela didn't sing Tina's songs when she played her" comments are floating around, but guess what? Angela Bassett can't sing the way Beyoncé can, and this next bit came as a shock even to me, who loves and respects Ms. Knowles: not only are her versions of "I'd Rather Go Blind" and "At Last," the number one wedding song of all time, chill inducing, but I like them BETTER than the originals. Blasphemy, you say! Get the villagers and the torches! Meet me in the internets' town square with those torches and I will tell you to fuck off because if you don't feel the grit and genuine blues in Beyoncé's voice when she snarls the line "something deep down in my soul said cry girl, when I saw you and that girl walking around" then you don't get the blues. The blues, the mother tongue of all popular American music, is about interpretation. Stories and emotions handed down orally. And Beyoncé's version of James' classics do more than honor and respect the originals, they become their own in the most organic and emotive way possible. So. Go for the explosive musical performances, stay for Beyoncé screaming "can I get a bottle of fucking gin?!" in an empty restaurant after her (white and supposedly, pool player Rudolph "Minnesota Fats" Wanderone), birth father refuses to admit paternity.

And guess what? A.O. Scott agrees:

“Cadillac Records” would be worth seeing for the music alone. Mr. Wright’s renditions of Muddy Waters’s signature songs are more than respectable, while Ms. Knowles’s interpretations of Ms. James’s hits — “At Last” and “I’d Rather Go Blind,” in particular — are downright revelatory.