From duly bawdy icon to outrageously respectful rock and roll icon, Little Richard was a walking contradiction if there ever was one. Or rather, he was a spinning contradiction, riding a piano and throwing off a shirt who spent just as much time in his long beleaguered life preaching the gospel, peddling Bibles, and rescuing sinners like himself from the fires of the hell. (The original chorus of 1955’s “Tutti Frutti” was about anal sex, and he enrolled in a theological seminary in the late ’50s.)
If that sounds like a lot to take on, that’s because it is. Three years after the death of the artist, the new documentary by Lisa Cortés, Little Richard: I Am Everything, pays homage to the wealth that made the artist a pioneer of the 20th century, while acknowledging the bumps along the path he blazed. Born Richard Wayne Penniman, one of 12 children raised in Depression-era Macon, Georgia, Little Richard seems to embody the American dream: rising to fame through courage and talent – against all odds. . Both gay and physically handicapped (one leg was shorter than the other), as well as being black, poor and southern in Jim Crow times, Richard has faced almost unquantifiable hardship in modern times. . “I couldn’t do anything right,” says one adult, Richard, of his childhood, when his father kicked him out of the house because he was effeminate.
From John Waters to Mick Jagger to members of Little Richard’s original band, a host of 20th century icons testify to his contributions to 50 years of pop culture. Meanwhile, contemporary black performers and intellectuals – Fredara Hadley, Tavia N’yongo, Jason King and Billy Porter among them – ponder what it means to inherit a “legacy” that is, as scholar Ashon Crawley puts it. , openly “complex”. ”
“I’ve been gay all my life. I believe I was one of the first gay people to come out,” Richard told David Letterman in 1982, one of many talk show interviews featured throughout the film.”But God made me believe that he created Adam to be with Eve, not Steve.”From her early ’50s drag performances as Princess Lavonne to THE Chitlin circuit to renounce homosexuality less than a decade later, Little Richard oscillated between these poles all his life. According to his bandmates, he often had a bible in his bed – with a group of naked men. His pendulum swung between religious piety and secular showmanship.
To take into account his identity is therefore to fight against the repression both singularly his own and widely experienced in his community. And yet, from the perspective of 2023, the archival photograph of Richard’s early days of entertainment truly amazes with its degree of sexual deviance: the rowdy equivalent of the Weimar cabaret in the deeply Christian black South. “The South is home to everything queer,” says Zandria Robinson, a sociologist and pop culture scholar, “the different, the non-normative, the other side of the gothic, the grotesque.”
Highlighting historic milestones in Little Richard’s life, iridescent pixie dust floats between archival footage and wild montages of swollen flower pistils, dividing cells and twerks of semen, segueing into scenes of contemporary black artists for whom he paved the way – from his right-hand percussion on the piano keys to his unabashed flamboyance on stage. While at times the pixie dust feels a little heavy to emphasize his enduring presence, other scenes honor the truly kaleidoscopic reach of his creative power, which he too inherited from visionaries before him. Just as the thundering guitar riffs of Sister Rosetta Thorpe intertwine with those of folk-gospel singer Valerie June, the key strokes of Little Richard fuse with that of pianist Cory Henry.
The doc’s main achievement is, arguably, also its core weakness. We are invited to revel in Richard’s rise and subsequent legacy, just as we might root any other great man in American history with singular brilliance. And in many ways, that just seems right. But Little Richard’s story is also, perhaps more powerfully, a story of exploitation and disenfranchisement of black Americans. As Cortés is careful to point out, Little Richard was denied his due for most of his acting life; his work brought in millions (perhaps billions?) of dollars to other artists and producers, the overwhelming majority of whom were white. “He had mentioned… how he felt he didn’t get what he deserved,” Charles Glenn, his longtime guitarist, shares, tears streaming down his face. “He created all this music and nobody gave him anything for it.”
The film culminates in what seems like a moment of triumph: Richard’s acceptance of the Merit Award at the 1987 American Music Awards, when he finally received public recognition for his indelible mark on the rock and roll genre. Twenty minutes later, the piano keys swell and the credits roll, and we’re clearly meant to celebrate his life as nothing less than remarkable. And of course that was. Sweaty, glittery and screaming at the crowd, Little Richard was a flawed but singular visionary – and it’s a testament to Cortés that acknowledging his flaws doesn’t mean giving up his legacy. But at the same time, he felt a little revisionist to leave out the last two decades of his life, during which he once again capitulated to homophobic Christian conservatism. We barely catch a glimpse of the 21st century man and learn nothing of his slow disappearance from bone cancer while living in downtown Nashville. In 2020, Richard was buried in Oakwood University Cemetery, the same place where he studied theology more than 60 years earlier.
“He paved a way,” Crawley said soberly, “saying, ‘We can get to this place, but I might not get there with you. “”And as remarkable as that path is, a stronger film would have been ready to devastate to the same degree that it dazzles.
Little Richard: I Am Everything is currently in theaters and available to stream.
