In the inevitably triumphant final act of the documentary The Return of Tanya Tucker, in which the veteran country singer’s hard work with young’un Brandi Carlile pays off come Grammy time, you can hear the elder stateswoman casually singing her heart out the morning of the award announcements. She sounds in terrific form. Her voice has come a long way from the precocious adolescent timbre that burst out when she started making records at 13.
These days Tucker sounds huskier, wiser, a country music second act equivalent to that of Marianne Faithful, to name another female singer whose hard living ravaged angelic looks and seasoned her instrument into something more sensitive and expressive.
In that sense, Tanya Tucker’s late-career renaissance isn’t a return so much as a reinvention, an adult education or a late harvest. Director Kathlyn Horan does her legendary subject best when she catches her unawares and taps into this fermentation process that graces only the luckiest (and perhaps hardest living) of career entertainers. Unfortunately, such moments are the exception in a largely by-the-numbers music doc.
Carlile is the most prominent in the parade of endorsements for her heroine’s influence, explaining that, “Tanya Tucker’s voice is in all of us that sing country music, and it’s time for us to do an about face and recognize that .” Dolly Parton, in old interview footage, puts it more simply: “That girl can sing!” And sing she could, but even before Horan deals with Tucker’s tabloid trials—the drug addiction, the affair with the much-older Glen Campbell—we see the youthful charisma, remarkable and maybe a little uncomfortable.
Tucker started singing in clubs and talent shows when she was nine years old, and for most of her career was managed by her father, who, as Tucker remembers, was protective of his talented daughter. Her first demo was recorded in Las Vegas and includes a combination of inspirational songs like “Put Your Hand in the Hand” as well as secular music like “Proud Mary”—the eternal tension of the sacred and profane in country music.
Sadly, the profane won out. How protected was she anyway? After an innocent enough start, Tucker was soon treated like a teen sexpot; at least one major critic, from one of the less sensationalistic outlets, wrote in a capsule review commented on the then 15-year old’s “cute ass.” The film never questions this sexualization of the young Tucker, and when she makes it to the cover of Rolling Stone and then the National Enquirer, the latter on a regular basis, the filmmakers lament the tawdry turn without judgment, but on the other hand nobody seems to wonder how she got into that position in the first place.
Tucker seems a bit out of step with the times; when Carlile asks the legend what female singer was most influential to her, clearly hoping for some empowering recognition of a kindred sister, Tucker answers, without thinking, “Elvis.”
Moments like that seem like the filmmakers are trying to fit Tucker’s story to their own narrative, instead of following the legend’s example. This becomes most frustrating for the viewer when, at what should be a victorious comeback concert appearance (though Tucker refuses the word “comeback”), the film inexplicably drops out Tucker’s performance, letting the singer perform in slo-mo to some moody electronic score. Why would you treat a legend that way? The Return of Tanya Tucker is a missed opportunity; the story isn’t that Tucker has come back from anywhere; the real victory is that she exists on her own terms, and it’s too bad the filmmakers thought dropping out her music mid-song was a good way to pay homage.
Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics
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