Music documentaries can often be accused of shamelessly eulogising and romanticising over the career of their subject as though afraid to portray the stars as human beings, and admit to their flaws. It was certainly the case for the Mick Jagger produced Crossfire Hurricane, and even in Kevin Macdonald’s Marley. Even worse are the features that follow an artist around on tour – like the recent Katy Perry and One Direction endeavours, that teach the audience nothing, deviating away from any sense of educational purpose. Thankfully, neither of those common misgivings can be accredited to Liz Garbus’ What Happened, Miss Simone?, which takes a candid, and painfully honest look into the life of the luminary, iconic Nina Simone.
The director – whose previous credits include the likes of Love, Marilyn and Bobby Fischer Against the World, has once again displayed her ability for capturing the distinct sensibilities and venerability of her subjects, and while there is an element of celebration when it comes to Simone’s life, this remains a sincere, studious account, never shying away from the less publicised, and yet somewhat more discreditable aspects of her demeanour – such as the impetuous aggression shown towards her daughter Lisa Simone Kelly. For Simone was a troubled soul, often on the receiving end of domestic abuse herself, at the hands of her husband Andrew Stroud, while battling a depression which plagued her life – making for an unsettling and often upsetting documentary.
Similarly to the likes of Julien Temple’s Joe Strummer doc – The Future Is Unwritten, this feature manages to get to the human being behind the star, though that being said, in Simone’s case there was little to separate the two, as she was endearingly interchangeable. The Nina Simone we see on stage – who will pour out her emotions into every single song, singing them as though she never has before, or confront audience member’s for standing up, is exactly the same Nina Simone we see off it. She was never one to put on an act – and it was this commitment and authenticity that inspired so many people, even if it did contribute to her eventual downfall. Simone became heavily caught up in the Civil Rights Movement, befriending Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, Jr., which spawned incredibly powerful songs such as Mississippi Goddam, which angered her husband given its lack of commerciality.
Simone’s political inclinations and raw displays of public activism gives Garbus the scope to use her subject as a catalyst to explore the entire era, and allowing her the chance to contextualise the musician’s career – which can only be beneficial to proceedings. It brings so much depth to songs we’ve all heard a million times before, now enriched thanks to this stunning piece of documentary filmmaking, as we feel we know so much of the person who wrote the lyrics, or lent her indelible vocals to these records.
Such is the vast array of songs that Simone performed across her illustrious career, from the likes of Feeling Good to My Baby Just Cares for Me, to her nuanced, distinguishable cover versions of Bob Dylan’s Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues or Just Like a Woman – it’s impossible for Garbus to squeeze them all in to 100 mere minutes without compromising the narrative. Arguably Simone’s very finest number – the feverish, mesmeric Sinnerman, is held back until the closing credits, so be sure not to go anywhere. Not that you’ll feel like getting up and leaving in a rush anyway, such is the emotional impact this compelling documentary will undoubtedly have had.
