I know I’m flying in the face of popular opinion, but Dreamgirls is not a great film. It’s girly, sure, but dreamy it aint. The 1981 stage-show has finally been made though to be fair, movie-musicals have had a rough time in recent decades. For every Chicago there’s been a Rentleaving producers suitably weary. Having got an Oscar-laden package (Condon, Foxx and Grammy award winning Beyoncé), they take on the thinly disguised story of Diana Ross and Motown Records. The results are flawed at best. Three young, gifted, black singers meet an ambitious record producer and before you can say stop in the name of love, there’s a song for every emotion. They hit the big time, jealousy fires up, one girl is dumped, another cuddles up to the producer only to leave him for a solo career. You know the story.

Yet it’s important to recall the dramatic problems lie beyond the screen. Condon has done a remarkable job in reimagining a troubled production that, beset by a flood of frequently pedestrian songs linked by pace-juddering fillers, almost manages to work on screen. Some of the success is in a dazzling production where barely a frame passes that isn’t filled with light or sequins. But the winning ingredient is debutante Jennifer Hudson. While Eddie Murphy is something of a revelation, it’s Hudson’s blinding performance that blows big talent off the screen. The one-time American Idol has more presence than the cast combined, and she’s not afraid to use it. Yet one egg does not a soufflé make. In all regards, Dreamgirls is a thin conceit that no amount of light and sequins can hide. 

// COLIN FRASER