Standing in the Shadows of Motown (2002) You Can't Hurry Fame: Motown's Unsung Heroes Cast & Crew Director : Paul Justman Producer : Paul Justman , Sandford Passman , Alan Slutsky Screenwriter : Walter Dallas , Ntozake Shange Starring : Richard 'Pistol' Allen, Jack Ashford , Bob Babbitt , Benny 'Papa Zita' Benjamin, Eddie 'Bongo' Brown, Bootsy Collins , Johnny Griffith , Ben Harper , Joe Hunter , James Jamerson , Uriel Jones , Montell Jordan , Chaka Khan , Gerald Levert ,Joe Messina , Me'Shell NdegéOcello, Joan Osborne Director: Paul Justman Writers: Ntozake Shange (Narration), Alan Slutsky (book),and 1 more credit » Stars: Joe Hunter , Jack Ashford and Uriel Jones By ELVIS MITCHELL Published: November 15, 2002 ''Forty-one years after they played their first note on a Motown record and three decades since they were all together, the Funk Brothers reunited in Detroit to play their music and tell their story,'' reads a title early in the director Paul Justman's documentary ''Standing in the Shadows of Motown.'' It is a simple premise that this movie more than lives up to, falling back on the serene power of the Funk Brothers, the squadron of elite musicians heard laying down the rhythm -- and the law -- on Motown's greatest hits. This salute to the literally unsung and underrecognized studio heroes of Motown is so good because it is one of those rare documentaries that combine information with smashing entertainment. And it is one of the few nonfiction films that will have you walking out humming the score, if you're not running to the nearest store to buy Motown CD's. The movie, which opens nationwide today, shifts among four components: performers lining up to offer heartfelt but uninvolving tributes to the Funk Brothers; the musicians talking about performances that turned sheet music into legendary recordings; new renditions of Motown classics with the Funk Brothers backing up guest vocalists like Ben Harper; and dramatic re-creations of Funk Brother anecdotes. These dramatizations lack the theatrical timing and phrasing of the Funk Brothers just spinning the tales, which Mr. Justman allows them to do at their own leisurely pace as they explain how the Motown founder, Berry Gordy, hired them. (It's appropriate that Artisan is releasing this film because that is exactly what these musicians are.) Two of the Brothers, the keyboardist Joe Hunter and the vibes and percussionist Jack Ashford, make especially vivid impressions. Speaking in menthol-cool tones that still carry a trace of arrogance, Mr. Ashford talks about his first meeting with Marvin Gaye, in which Mr. Ashford didn't bother to sugar his disdain for pop. ''Everybody wanted to be like Miles Davis, didn't matter what instrument you played,'' he says, explaining his cockiness. The puckish Mr. Hunter, who can't even sit and nod without a mischievous glint in his eyes, speaks so plainly and directly that only afterward does the impact of his words register. He fell in love with Rachmaninoff because ''he had such a terrific left hand,'' he said, adding: ''I wish my left hand could be like that. I'd put my right hand in my pocket and just play with my left.'' His fellow pianist Johnny Griffith -- who died on Sunday, and whose unlined, beatific face makes him look easily 20 years younger than the 66 he was -- confides a Hunter direction; he says Mr. Hunter told him: ''Just play what you want to play. They don't know what they listenin' to anyway. If it's too much, they'll let you know.'' The beauty of Motown is its simplicity, and straightforward confessions will forever change the way you regard the music. The Motown producer and arranger Paul Riser seconds Mr. Hunter: ''Arrangers would come in and just have a general idea of our concept and we'd leave them with the masters.'' Such statements bring to mind Bob Dylan's calling Smokey Robinson America's greatest living poet, and raise the question of whether his poetry would have even existed without the Funk Brothers giving lilt to his lyrics. That truth is divined earlier in ''Motown'' when the drummer Steve Jordan, the linchpin of the original ''Late Night With David Letterman'' band, assesses the Funk Brothers' contributions: ''When these cats cut tracks -- and really, no offense to any of the great artists who sang on them -- Deputy Dawg could've sung on them and they would've been a hit.'' He's right. The grooves in the Motown standards are so solid that even high-school marching bands can't ruin them, so it is a little less than monumental when Gerald Levert, Joan Osborne and Meshell Ndegeocello join the Funk Brothers to sing ''Reach Out, I'll Be There'' or ''Heat Wave'' or ''You Really Got a Hold on Me.'' The stories the musicians tell about their lives and work are the center of the picture. These moments make ''Motown'' truly inspiring and mesmerizing film. The beats the Funk Brothers pound out alone are hypnotic, and ''Motown'' falls into the by-now dependable tradition that includes ''Buena Vista Social Club'' and ''Calle 54.'' Like these movies, ''Motown'' is a showcase for the natural charisma of musicians who claim the screen by dint of pride, accomplishment and sheer will. ''Buena Vista'' is the one to be taken the most seriously -- and rightfully so -- because of the political system that its stars had to endure. There are personal politics in ''Motown,'' because the Funk Brothers had to cope with the whims of a genius as wily and autocratic as Fidel Castro and far more unpredictable: the bassist James Jamerson, who is called tortured in the narration by Andre Braugher. The film was inspired by Allan Slutsky's enlightening book on Jamerson from which the movie takes its title: ''Standing in the Shadows of Motown: The Life and Music of Legendary Bassist James Jamerson,'' a combination biography and bass-guitar instruction manual that has to be the most unlikely book in movie history ever to become the root of a great documentary. ''Motown'' gives a lot of attention to Jamerson, who deserves his own film. He died in 1983 at age 45. His son, James Jr., talks about how his father, as a boy, would create a makeshift bass out of a stick strung with a rubber band, jam the stick in an ant hole and ''make the ants dance.'' The movie hints that Jamerson's charming eccentricity masked a dangerous streak, which is reinforced when Mr. Ashford remarks, ''You try to keep him as tranquil as possible because he could really get out there.'' (Jamerson's descent into alcoholism and obscurity is given shorter shrift than it deserves; Mr. Justman obviously wanted to keep the story upbeat.) ''Standing in the Shadows of Motown'' doesn't seem to have a single poorly told anecdote, and we get a chance to see how well developed a sense of drama the funkateers possess. And speaking of funkateers, one of the guest artists lending his talents to a Motown classic is Bootsy Collins, the P-Funk liquid-toned bassist, who joins the Funk Brothers for ''Do You Love Me?'' -- and who invented the word funkateers. Mr. Collins, who headed the Rubber Band, had his own bass style that was undeniably influenced by Jamerson. (Jamerson's slippery, sinuous bottom-plucking gave Motown its distinctive throb.) Given that all of the musicians in the film labored through the conditions suggested in the title -- though they all emerged from the shade of Motown to emit their own voluminous glows -- it is Jamerson's one-finger plucking, demonstrated by his son, that casts the deepest, most fascinating spell. To be sure, the movie does not stint on spotlighting the talents of other Funk Brothers, now dead, like the drummer Benny Benjamin, known as Papa Zita, the member who named the band the Funk Brothers and is the subject of several funny stories. One minor quibble is that the movie lacks a clarifying touch. No one notes that so much of the transformative artistry of the Funk Brothers' bumping rhythm lines gave muscle to the longest streak of love songs centering on sexual paranoia. Much of the Motown catalog is about fearful romantic obsession; one such gem, ''It's a Desperate Situation,'' was co-written by Mr. Hunter and recorded by Gaye. (It only surfaced a few years ago.) Maybe this movie will compel Motown to rerelease great, forgotten albums like Griffith's solo work. Incidentally, Mr. Collins and his compatriot George Clinton recorded some of the most astounding funk in Detroit, a few miles north of where the Funk Brothers plied their trade. This is not the Detroit of Eminem's biopic, ''8 Mile,'' a blighted wasteland that could be found in Ze'ev Chafets's book ''Devil's Night: And Other True Tales of Detroit.'' Rather, this movie focuses on the optimism that brought the Funk Brothers to Detroit to stake their musical claim. This makes ''Motown'' the perfect companion piece to ''8 Mile,'' because it shows that there is something in the water, or the air, or the ginger ale in Detroit that has made it such a remarkable place. The spirit of adventure rules the day in ''Standing in the Shadows of Motown''; it was a game initiative that made funk an art form. ''Standing in the Shadows of Motown'' is rated PG (Parental guidance suggested). It has strong language. STANDING IN THE SHADOWS OF MOTOWN Directed by Paul Justman; written by Walter Dallas and Ntozake Shange, based on the book by Allan Slutsky; directors of photography, Doug Milsome and Lon Stratton; edited by Anne Erikson; produced by Sandy Passman, Mr.