Bill Withers. I haven’t heard that name in a while, although I have regularly heard the songs — “Ain’t No Sunshine,” “Lean On Me,” “Grandma’s Hands,” and “Just the Two of Us.” They still are played on AM radio. Probably on FM and subscription radio services too, but I only listen to the radio in the car so it’s AM all the way. His songs have been covered by artists as diverse as Paul McCartney and Aaron Neville and sampled by a variety of hip-hop artists including Kanye West and Dr. Dre. Still Bill was the title of his second album, in 1972, it’s also a new film made by Damani Baker and Alex Vlack. I watched this film yesterday, with an R&B aficionado friend, and the two of us sat quietly as the gentle genius of Bill Withers was celebrated
The film is an intimate portrait of a man who is a human being first and a celebrity way down the line. We’re invited into his California home, where he sits surrounded by guitars, a piano, and souvenirs of his active days as a performer, and he talks openly about his lack of motivation to perform. It’s not as if he’s not creating. He has a beautiful studio in the house, which he claims not to know anything about, but later in the film we see him working on two different projects. One is some music his daughter is recording, and the other is a new song he’s writing with guitarist Raul Midon. Both seem to bring him to life. He shows obvious pride in his daughter’s song, as it brings him to tears. With Midon we see the beginnings of the session as a phone call, Raul arrives with his guitar, and the two of them hunker down and begin to play together bringing life to what was just an idea in Withers head.
The early part of the film sees him talking about his career, and presents clips from TV shows, playing his hits. One immediately recalls just how fine a singer he was. How different from the crop of R&B singers that were the current rage. He talks about how record producers wanted him to perform with “three girl singers, and some horns” — he stuck to the funky basics, sitting on a chair playing acoustic, with drums, percussion, bass and lead guitar. And he was altogether the better for it. After all, he had a “good job makin’ toilets for 747s” so if they didn’t let him do it his way, he’d just go back to that good job. And you get the feeling he would have!
Withers is shown in conversation with talk show host Tavis Smiley and Dr. Cornel West (professor of African-American Studies at Princeton) who tries to make Withers’ career into a racial success story. Bill knows what he had to do to get to where he did, and he shows us his beginnings in the coal mining town of Slab Fork, West Virginia. But he doesn’t want to be made into a martyr or a statistic, and he comes across as all the stronger for it. He is an individual, a man who did what he wanted to do, who chose his path and followed it.
The tribute concert in New Tork City and the visit to Our Time Theatre Co. are both moving. Whether it’s Angelique Kidjo and Jim James singing his songs, or listening to a group of young people sing for him, Withers presents a dignified and caring persona. You can’t help but like the guy. His family love him, his ex-producer and band-mates would love to work with him again, and just from spending ninety minutes with him we gained a new level of respect for the man. It’s not many movies that can have that kind of impact. This is a very special film, well worth seeing!
(b-side Entertainment / LN&W, 2009)
[2026 Update: This film is still available on at least one well known streaming service.]
