Is ‘Duets’ The Worst Movie Of All Time? Yes. No. Yes. Maybe?
It’s got everything: karaoke, problematic politics, Huey Lewis
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Whenever I explain the movie Duets to someone, they can’t believe it ever existed but it did. Personally, I don’t know why we aren’t talking all the time, constantly, about this mildly-offensive quasi-musical about karaoke hustlers from the year 2000, which you’d think was a significant year when in fact it wasn’t, it was just this sort of loud sigh between 1999 and the next hundred years.
Duets was one of the last totally unironic Baby Boomer fantasies, a rock ‘n roll fable about fathers and daughters, free lovin’ ramblers, charming anti-heroes railing against the system, and one Black man who saves the life of a white middle-class worker drone on a journey of self-discovery.
See what I mean? This movie is amazing except for its racial and sexual politics, but the year 2000 was a long time ago and if you can forgive its stilted dialogue and embarrassing social statements I promise you, you’ll be pleasantly surprised by its shocking corniness. If you want to understand modern political moderates, Duets is also for you. When this movie was made, white heterosexual men were firmly in control of everything, which is just how we like it, and the future was bright, especially if you were a white heterosexual man.
There is a scene near the end of the movie that I always think about and it requires spoilers, but I think that’s okay. It’s not even a whole scene, just a single line but that line requires a little context and so, therefore, spoiler warning, or whatever. But don’t worry. It doesn’t matter. Think of roller coasters: you know there’s a giant loop-de-loop. You can see it from afar. You know it’s coming but it still makes you vomit. That’s Duets!
This isn’t even a movie where the plot or narrative surprises are important. There’s no loop-de-loop, just song, heart, and two-dimensional characters, including a sassy devil-may-care singer who is happy to trade blowjobs for help on her way to karaoke stardom, which I don’t think was ever a thing, ever.
So what is Duets? Well, as I mentioned, it’s a movie with lots of singing but it’s not quite a musical. There are jokes but there are also attempts at serious social criticism. It’s also a road trip movie about a trio of pairs on a race to a karaoke competition in Omaha with a $5,000 prize.
But, mostly, it’s about Gwyneth Paltrow singing a cover of Kim Carnes’s ‘Betty Davis Eyes’ like a stoned teenage robot. Paltrow plays the grown love child of Huey Lewis, I shit you not, who travels the country wearing nerdy fake glasses and pretending to have never heard of karaoke, before placing a bet and then taking the stage and singing like Huey Lewis. It’s unbelievable. One important part of his con is acting like he’s never heard of karaoke, and calls it “karate-oke.” Oh yes, that’s a racist joke.
How can you read these words and not want to watch this movie immediately? It is an important record of our civilization, a snapshot of America with flushed cheeks, right before the long, slow decline.
So I think about this line delivered by Huey Lewis’ crooked crooner the morning after the movie’s big climax. He’s checking out of the hotel where the big karaoke competition happened with Paltrow, his daughter, and their storyline, and relationship, is… weird? Off? Not right?
Have you ever seen a photo of young Ivanka Trump sitting on her father Donald’s lap? There is something not right about it, you know? Well, there’s something not right about Lewis’ character asking his daughter if she ever slept with Tom Jones after she dropped his name as a friend she used to keep company (but not sleep with) while he was in Vegas.
She was 28 at the time, an Academy Award-winner, but her character was written as a permanent 16-year-old who calls Lewis’ character ‘daddy,’ even though he was revealed as her deadbeat dad only a few scenes before when they met for the first time at her mother’s funeral.
They met, and they flirted. Duets is directed by Gwyneth’s late father, Bruce, which just adds a little too much spice to this whole rigmarole.
So back to that moment: Paltrow is talking about how awful the previous night was to a cab driver who got involved with the sassy devil-may-care singer after catching his wife with his best friend. I know. That’s a lot. Take a breath.
The event she’s talking about concerns the other two main characters: Paul Giamatti, a salesman having a nervous breakdown, and the great Andre Braugher, as an escaped convict with a poet’s heart. I apologize, I forgot to mention he is an armed escaped convict with a poet’s heart. During their adventures on the road, and singing Otis Redding ditties in honky-tonks together, Giamatti’s unloveable yet unhinged yuppie commits a crime that Braugher’s character takes responsibility for, and by that, I mean let’s the cops gun him down. He kills himself to rescue his new best friend, a dude who gets angry multiple times because no hotel will redeem his credit card frequent flier miles.
But before he gives his life, he sings a powerful acapella version of Lynrd Skynrds country-fried power ballad ‘Free Bird.’ Braugher’s character has the voice of an angel, too. There isn’t a dry eye in the house, which is full of police officers with itchy fingers ready to take down bad guys.
During a college lecture in 2001, filmmaker Spike Lee criticized movies like The Green Mile and The Legend of Bagger Vance for creating Black characters whose only purpose is helping and teaching white people. He called this trope the ‘Magical Negro,’ and if he had seen the movie Duets, he surely would have included it but I doubt he saw it because no one did. Except for me. I remember a time when karaoke was this new, cool thing in America, and I remember going to see a movie about it, and absolutely loving most of it, even if there are moments that feel like they were written and directed by people who had never interacted with other humans in society.
This brings me to the line. The morning after, understandably, everyone is talking about the public execution of the Black guy at the big karaoke competition. Paltrow’s character is still working it out and mentions how she can’t believe it happened, and what a beautiful voice he had. And then Huey Lewis, daddy, says: “Yeah, I’ve never heard ‘Free Bird’ sung like that”
That’s his only thought.
He says it with respect and reverence. He’s heard “Free Bird” sung before, many times. But this time? Last night? It was special. Brilliant. He’ll never be heard it sung like that again. Probably because the guy who sang it was riddled with bullets. Is Lewis a good actor? No. Is he a good singer? Yes. But, once again, is he a good actor? No.
Oh and how long does it take Giammati’s character to get over his friend's sacrifice? Five minutes. Later, his frequent flier miles are accepted. Happy ending!
The songs sung in Duets are rock, soul, and pop standards that would grace any Boomer’s makeout playlist. Lionel Ritchie, Bonnie Rait, Todd Rundgren. I’m honestly surprised that there hasn't been an attempt to bring this movie to Broadway because it’s almost a no-brainer. It’s a goofy, politically-incorrect swing voter crowdpleaser with hits beloved by white suburban moms and dads everywhere that teaches a simple lesson: try a little tenderness and if a nice Black guy wants to take the fall for your crimes…let him? What the fuck?
