Arts & Entertainment
Franklin’s fumble
New album finds ‘woman falling’ with bad songs, dated production

So why not re-shoot your album cover after you lost 85 pounds? Alas the cover of Aretha Franklin's new album is but one of many mysteries surrounding the soul legend. (Photo courtesy of Wal-Mart)
It’s painful when a long-awaited album from a much-loved artist finally appears and is a disaster.
The pain is especially acute on Aretha Franklin’s new album, the Wal-Mart exclusive “A Woman Falling Out of Love.” Rumors swirled wildly last fall that she had pancreatic cancer — Rolling Stone even went to press with the news citing anonymous Franklin family members. So it’s a delight and huge relief to see a much trimmer Aretha — she lost about 85 pounds — back on the media circuit, looking healthier than she has in years and rescheduling concerts she postponed last year during her mystery illness (she plays Wolf Trap June 21).
What a sweet coda to the story if “Woman Falling” had been a solid, career-punctuating comeback on a par with her last good album, 1998’s “A Rose is Still a Rose.” Sadly, it’s her worst album in ages joining schlock like “Almighty Fire,” “You,” “Sweet Passion” and “Get it Right” as some of the least compelling junk in her vast discography.
Aside from the fact that she’s healthy and, based on last week’s TV promo appearances, in reasonably good voice, the good news is that the album is out at all. She was predicting an imminent release as far back as 2006 when she first mentioned the title to Billboard. It was so unfathomably delayed, it became almost a joke, sort of R&B’s answer to “Chinese Democracy,” the decade-in-the-making Guns n’ Roses album that finally saw release in 2008. Despite being active on the touring circuit, Franklin’s studio output ground nearly to a halt in the last 10 years. There was an uneven Christmas album in 2008. Her last “real” album was 2003’s “So Damn Happy.” It felt hit-and-miss at the time; it plays like a masterpiece, though, compared to “Woman Falling.”
Franklin has boasted in interviews this new project finally gives her creative control. She sees this as a major plus — sadly, she’s probably the only one. Her career, despite all the critical acclaim, has always been spotty. For every “Think,” “Freeway of Love” or “Chain of Fools,” there’ve been dozens of mediocre album tracks that fail to resonate. Because her early years at Atlantic were so smoldering and her voice has lasted, Franklin always managed a staggering level of acclaim considering how much junk there is on many of her records.
But left to her own devices, Franklin stumbles badly here churning out an inconsistent and all-over-the-map sonic mess that struggles to muster even one catchy hook or chorus. “This You Should Know” (which she both wrote and produced), “Put it Back Together Again,” “When 2 Become One” and first single “How Long I’ve Been Waiting” sink like quicksand in a soggy stew of momentum-sapping and dated-sounding R&B drivel.
Franklin, thankfully, sounds great. Her voice — while not quite the rafter raising feat of nature it was 30 years ago — still has a luster and sheen that’s delightful to hear. In a way, though, it makes this album doubly tragic — with better material, it’s obvious Franklin possesses the vocal wherewithal to have produced a home run.
The covers are hit and miss, but two of the three are the record’s high points. A sassy, bluesy cover of B.B. King’s “Sweet Sixteen” promises early hope but proves an isolated and fleeting moment. A duet with an oddly uncredited Ronald Isley on “The Way We Were” is sweeping and feels positively glorious compared to everything else. “A Summer Place,” the theme from the 1959 film of the same title, doesn’t fare nearly as well. An oddball outro dialogue with an uncredited male guest is embarrassing, cheesy and weird.
The insipd “New Day” sounds like a promising change of pace initially with its deep bassline but soon dissolves into trite lyrics (“you can make it if you try!”). “Faithful,” a duet with gospel’s Karen Clark-Sheard is so ludicrously oversung it makes Christina Aguilera sound reserved.
And despite a Billy Preston-caliber organ accompaniment courtesy of Darrell Houston, “His Eye is On the Sparrow” shows merely that Franklin’s son Eddie, singing lead here, inherited his mother’s range but not her interpretive finesse. She accompanies him on piano. It gives the album warmth, but since Aretha’s never recorded this standard herself, I’d have much rather heard her sing it.
The album closes with a bombastic rendition of “My Country Tis of Thee,” which Franklin sang at Obama’s inauguration. She battled the cold that day — here she battles an overwrought orchestration (her own arrangement) that never met a musical cliché (rumbling timpani!, gospel choir on caffeine!) that it didn’t try to work in.
Franklin said she cut tracks with Faith Hill, Shirley Caesar and several producers for this album but they’re all MIA. It’s impossible to know how much was recorded over the last five years for this album but considering what made the final cut, one shudders to imagine the outtakes. From the amateur photography and packaging to the dubious selections and bland production, this is a near-total disaster.
Movies
‘It’s Dorothy’ traces lasting influence of a cultural icon
Thoughtful and scholarly with a celebratory tribute to the character
There was a time, according to queer lore, when gay men referred to themselves as a “Friend of Dorothy” as a coded way of communicating their sexual orientation to each other without fear of “the straights” catching on. The reference, of course, is a winking nod to the love and affinity felt by the community toward the main character of L. Frank Baum’s 1900 novel “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” – especially as personified by Judy Garland in the classic 1939 big screen musical version from MGM.
It may be that the origins of this phrase have been mythologized, exaggerated and/or retro-fitted to convey the underground nature of the queer community – as, indeed, is suggested in “It’s Dorothy!” (the new documentary from filmmaker Jeffrey McHale, now streaming on Peacock), which concerns itself with the enduring cultural legacy of this quintessentially American fictional heroine. But regardless of whether it truly served as a sort of “secret password,” it has come to be embraced as a part of the LGBTQ lexicon. As “campy” as the reference may be, being a “Friend of Dorothy” is now a proudly held communal watchword not just for gay men, but for an entire rainbow community – and McHale’s fizzy-yet-reverential exploration taps into all the reasons how and why this fictional Kansas farm girl has come to be a touchstone for so many by tracking her journey across popular culture over the 125 years since she first sprung to life in the pages of Baum’s timeless literary fantasy.
Calling on the commentary of cultural figures – writers, performers, and other artists whose paths have been, by fate or by personal design, have become associated with Dorothy’s legacy across pop culture, as well as the observations of scholars and historians that provide insight on the appeal that has made her into a sort of avatar for anyone who feels marginalized in a wild and self-contradictory world – and enriched by a plentiful trove of clips from the myriad incarnations through which she has become embedded into the American pop culture imagination, it’s a documentary that leans heavily into the notion that Baum’s timeless heroine remains relevant through her relatability. Given a minimum of descriptors by the author who created her and portrayed in the public imagination through a widely divergent array of social viewpoints, she represents a kind of “blank page” on which we can imprint ourselves; but at the same time, there is something about her – her nebulous status as presumed orphan, raised by an aunt and uncle who don’t quite understand her and thrust without warning into a world of contradictory rules and unfair expectations – that speaks directly to those who feel like outsiders, or who dream of freedom, acceptance, and personal agency beyond the proverbial rainbow.
Naturally, McHale imprints on Dorothy’s most iconic incarnation off the pages of Baum’s books; the cultural legacy of Dorothy cannot be separated from that of her most iconic representative – Garland, of course – and his documentary easily makes the case that, through her association with the character, this beloved actress who was constantly judged and frequently stigmatized throughout a career that took her through the heights of public success to the depths of personal heartbreak, all while living under the constant scrutiny of Hollywood’s publicity-and-propaganda machine. As a result, she somehow merged identities with her most famous role: Judy was Dorothy, but Dorothy was Judy, too. “It’s Dorothy” takes advantage of this almost mystical transfiguration to reflect on the qualities that make this pairing of actress and character so deeply complementary, while also using it to illuminate why the empathy which binds her with the queer community is so tightly connected to the qualities she shared with the non-descript but unforgettable character that would make her into an undisputed icon.
As famous as Garland’s Dorothy is, however, it’s not the end-and-be-all of Baum’s beloved heroine, and much of McHale’s movie turns its attention to the numerous other performers who have taken on the role throughout the decades, in various incarnations of the “Wizard of Oz” mythos – particularly through “The Wiz,” the 1974 Broadway musical that reframes and remolds the story (and Dorothy) through the lens of Black culture and experience, and other iterations that have emerged throughout pop culture as a testament to her enduring appeal. Indeed, the movie brings illumination to the way that Dorothy – and the “Oz” mythos in general – has become a touchstone within Black community culture as well, and how artists (like musician Rufus Wainwright, gay counterculture icon John Waters, comedian/actor Margaret Cho, comedian/writer/director Lena Waithe, and “Wicked” author Gregory Maguire, all of whom participate in the film’s conversation) have found inspiration in the character and her story, which has helped to shape their own creative lives.
Thoughtful and scholarly while also delivering a celebratory tribute to the character (and the outsider qualities which make her beloved by so many who can relate to her sense of longing and the call she feels to journey “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”), “It’s Dorothy” provides a respectful yet candid examination of the lasting impact of Baum’s iconic character and the world he created around her in our popular imagination, not just as queer people but as a larger American community. It’s an entertaining journey into cultural history, which connects the dots to give us insight on why Dorothy and her adventures continue to speak to us with such profound resonance. It’s also entertaining in a way that feels like a “guilty pleasure” but is validated by the reverence it exudes for its subject, and loaded with memorably evocative clips from movies, shows, and performances from across the decades; and while it may begin to feel a bit repetitive, at points, as it examines the various actresses who have played Dorothy over the years (and the meaning they have found in her that connects her to their own lives), it nevertheless maintains a sincerity of feeling that keeps us invested.
And just in case you might feel like the times are too somber for a nostalgic stroll down the “yellow brick road” of cultural memories, be aware that McHale also explores the ominous presence of the Wizard himself in these tales, a phony who pretends at power while hiding behind a benevolent mask to maintain it.
As if the “Wicked” movies didn’t make the point clearly enough, we’re in a world that’s a lot more Oz-like than we would like to imagine, and it’s hard not to wish we had the ability to go “home” simply by tapping our heels together in fabulous footwear. “It’s Dorothy!” conveys that longing in a way that feels light-hearted and joyful, and reminds us why being a “friend of Dorothy” has been and continues to be a resonant way of identifying ourselves in a world full of wizards, witches, and “twisters” that can carry us far away from home.
And if you want to follow it up with an impromptu rewatch of the 1939 classic, we wouldn’t blame you. It’s a movie that feels, to so many of us, like home – and there’s no place like it.
Arts & Entertainment
The very few queer highlights of the Oscars
Streisand’s live performance, a shocking tie, and more
LOS ANGELES — While Sunday’s Academy Awards saw the expected winners “One Battle After Another” and “Sinners” nab a collective 10 Oscars throughout the evening, dominating most of the major categories, there were a few moments for queer film fans to celebrate.
During the ceremony’s prolonged and emotional In Memoriam segment, which paid tribute to Robert Redford, Rob Reiner, and Catherine O’Hara, queer icon Barbra Streisand went on stage and gave a rare live performance of “The Way We Were” as a tribute to Redford, who died last September at the age of 83. Before singing, Streisand said, “Now, Bob had real backbone on and off the screen. He spoke up to defend freedom of the press, protect the environment, and encouraged new voices at his Sundance Institute — some of whom are up for Oscars tonight, which is so great. He was thoughtful and bold.”
Both “I Lied to You” from “Sinners” and “Golden” from “KPop Demon Hunters” were performed live; Alabama Shakes front woman Brittany Howard performed during the evening’s powerful rendition of “Sinners’” “pierce the veil” scene. “Golden” ended up winning the Best Original Song award.
One of the most shocking moments of the night arrived early on when Kumail Nanjiani presented the Best Live Action short category, which was a tie between “The Singers” and “Two People Exchanging Saliva” — only the seventh tie in Oscars history (one of which involved Streisand’s 1969 win for “Funny Girl”). The latter short, which is currently streaming on The New Yorker, is described as “a dystopian version of Paris where kissing is forbidden and purchases are made through small acts of violence” and follows the unexpected connection between two women.
When accepting the award, “Two People Exchanging Saliva” director and producer Natalie Musteata said: “Thank you to the Academy for supporting a film that is weird, and that is queer, and that is made by a majority of women!”
“One Battle After Another’s” editor, Andy Jurgensen (who collaborated with Paul Thomas Anderson on “Licorice Pizza” and “Phantom Thread”), kissed his husband before going on stage to accept his award for film editing. He said, “To my partner, Bill, who brings so much joy to my life every day.”
Overall, the 2026 award season did not feature many queer films or actors in the lineup, and that was reflected in both the Oscar nominees and eventual winners. Smaller award shows like the Gotham Awards and the Film Independent Spirit Awards provided opportunities for indies like “Sorry, Baby,” “Twinless,” and “Lurker” to get proper recognition. “One Battle After Another” won Best Picture and Best Director for Paul Thomas Anderson; “Sinners” star Michael B. Jordan won Best Actor; and “Hamnet’s” Jessie Buckley won Best Actress.
The annual fantasy, comics and science fiction convention Awesome Con was held at the Walter E. Washington Convention Center on March 13-15. Featured guests included openly gay actor, author and activist, George Takei. The convention included LGBTQ panels and a “Pride Alley” with LGBTQ-specific booths in the exhibit hall.
(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)






















