At the beginning of “Sly Lives (aka The Burden of Black Genius)”, revered drummer turned documentary filmmaker Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson asks a handful of celebrity interview subjects if they can define the concept of “Black genius.” Musicians like Michael Eugene Archer (aka: D’Angelo), Andre “3000” Benjamin, and Yvette Marie Stevens (Chaka Khan) initially laugh in response, but in time, they all talk about the loaded expectations that comes with being a Black artist and role model. That’s the main theme of Thompson’s wide-ranging, detailed, and exceptionally well-realized documentary portrait of Sly Stewart, the founder, lead vocalist, and main composer of the indispensable soul/rock group Sly and the Family Stone.
Like Thompson’s equally impressive concert doc “Summer of Soul” before it, “Sly Lives!” tells the story of a singular subject as both a personal narrative and a cultural trend. Stewart’s ex-bandmates express both their frustration and admiration for the man, which balances out largely complimentary observations from the next generation of African-American musicians who were inspired by Stewart.
Thompson further rounds out this rich docu-portrait with anecdotes and analysis from music executives and historians, and Stewart’s own children, too. These interviews and a wealth of archival documents—concert footage, TV interviews, public and private photographs, and newspaper clippings—paint a full picture of Stewart as a both a person and public figure.
“Sly Lives!” begins and ends with quotes from Stewart, who first touches upon his earliest experiences with music, including a childhood band with his siblings as well as his work as a hit-making producer for such groups as The Beau Brummels and Grace Slick’s The Great Society. From there, Family Stone musicians Greg Errico, Larry Graham Jr., and Cynthia Robinson take over in describing the band’s meteoric rise to fame and influence. Their testimony, as well as commentary from collaborators like Stewart’s former assistant Stephani Swanigan Owens and ex-partner Ruth Copeland, goes a long way to both test and make Thompson’s case for Stewart as a genius who could not ultimately handle the high expectations that came with his Utopian values and formative successes.
In the first half of “Sly Lives!”, Thompson presents Stewart and his band’s key successes as something that was both sought after and also “almost too much”, as Stewart describes the group’s fame after their iconic 1969 Woodstock Music and Art Fair performance. Quotes like this, taken from older interviews with Stewart, hint at what other interviewees flesh out, especially when it comes to thorny subjects like Stewart’s drug abuse. As an (off-camera) interviewer, Thompson also elicits a considerate and knowing appraisal of Stewart from his on-camera subjects, like when Swanigan speculates that anxiety kept Stewart back more than his drug intake did. It’s also especially heartening to hear Errico confirm a key element of Thompson’s thesis, namely that “a mixed [race and gender] band” was always a conscious goal for Stewart.
As a director and storyteller, Thompson uses soundbite-sized quotes to suggest a lot about Stewart and masterfully arranges his interview subjects’ observations with a keen ear for enlivening and essential details, like when he includes a solitary quote from Motown record label president Suzanne de Passe, who acknowledges that she did not sign Stewart since, by the time she met him, he seemed like “damaged goods.” Thompson also gives ample room for seasoned and knowledgeable interviewees like hip hop producers James Samuel Harris III (Jimmy Jam) and Terry Lewis, who break down what’s working and why in Sly and the Family Stone’s biggest hit songs.
The worst thing that you can say about “Sly Lives!” is that you might wish it were longer, especially when talking heads like George Clinton or Stewart’s family members discuss Stewart’s infamous drug habit (Clinton: “We were crackheads”). You might also wish that there was more concert footage and fewer animated photo collage sequences, the latter of which match animated photos of Stewart and the band with their emblematic song lyrics.
Still, Thompson’s version of Stewart’s story has a clear sense of balance, depth, and continuity throughout. Thompson does a fine job of juxtaposing Stewart’s words, as well as a wealth of photos and documentary footage, with commentary from younger artists, like when Archer speculates that when you’re a Black genius, “you have to [make art] for everyone” right before Benjamin mysteriously observes that “it is a burden and wings.” Those quotes seem even more meaningful after Stewart, in an old interview, says that being a Black role model “is a lonely trip sometimes.”
Thompson’s knack for cinematic pacing, compositions, and arrangement puts “Sly Lives!” over the top, especially during his loving interview segments with the Family Stone band members. The resulting portrait feels not only true enough, but also meaningful in a way that extends well beyond Stewart’s individual circumstances. “Sly Lives!” may not give you everything that you want from a movie about Stewart, but it does paint a full enough picture of an artist who knowingly “opened a portal,” in Benjamin’s words, while also struggling to be both genuine and comfortable as himself.
“Sly Lives! (aka the Burden of Black Genius)” premieres on Hulu on Feb. 13.