I Sing "The Bodyguard" Electric

As a child, "The Bodyguard" was one of my favorite movies. Five years old when it was released in 1992, I believe I have some vague memory of watching it for the first time at home, once it was released on video. From then on I can recollect asking my parents to rent me the VHS tape from the neighborhood video store, and finally I remember shelling out about 25 bucks (a small fortune then) from a Blockbuster "previously viewed" rack. Then I could watch it as much as I wanted, and I did.

This film was not an ironic source of enjoyment for me in those days. I was not aware at such a young age of flaws in unified storytelling or verisimilitude, or the frowned-upon studio practice of creating blockbuster "vehicles" for music legends, or even that "bad acting" was something easily recognizable and quite distasteful. I only knew that some things I enjoyed, others I did not. "The Bodyguard" I enjoyed sincerely enough that I wanted to watch it repeatedly.

The musical numbers contributed most of the enjoyment, I believe. It's remarkable to me that "The Bodyguard" is so frequently classified as a thriller, when really it is as much a musical as "The Sound of Music" or "My Fair Lady." I see now that the dramatics of Whitney Houston's character being stalked and threatened, and the jealous sister's suicide, and the forbidden love between a black superstar and her white protector -- these were things I could barely understand as a child. (I'm the youngest of three children, and my parents were very hands-off when it came to supervising what I watched.) I didn't need to understand them -- I had what I wanted in this film: the spectacle of Whitney Houston, at the peak of her fame, taking to the stage and issuing forth a voice unlike anything I'd heard before (or since).

I think I also re-watched the film solely for the purpose at arriving at the end -- the dramatic climax when Whitney sings what is perhaps the best record of the 1990's, or of all time, the incomparable "I Will Always Love You" (written of course by Dolly Parton). It has been some time since I last watched the movie, but I still feel my heart stop when I think of the pivotal moment of the song. In the third verse, not long after the saxophone solo, there is a complete rest for about two seconds just before Whitney belts out again, "And I.........." In techno music this would qualify as the "drop," the moment when the song takes on a new dimension, and you become sublimely aware that everything beforehand was leading up to this moment. The scene in the film shows Whitney's character bolt from her seat on an about-to-take-off jet, fly down the runway and into the arms of Costner. It may seem cheesy to some, but before I'd witnessed my fair share of love stories (both fictional and personal), this was pure gold to me. I don't know that I ever actually cried watching it, but the banality of the storyline is elevated by Whitney's performance to such a sensational degree that something akin to tears definitely wells up in me.

The unbelievable thing about Whitney Houston is that, at her best, her voice actually seems to be coming from some other planet. She seems to lack agency in the matter: she merely opens her mouth and allows the sound to emerge through efforts of restraint. Were she to let it all out at once, it would destroy her. This to me is different -- and more effective -- than other legendary female singers, such as Celine Dion and Mariah Carey, whose gifts of passion and/or precision reach the pinnacle of talent, but lack the murderous potential of Whitney's almost alien instrument.

The soundtrack for "The Bodyguard" won the Grammy for Album of the Year in 1994, and as a film it's not alone in this distinction. Soundtracks for "Saturday Night Fever" (1979) and "O Brother Where Art Thou?" (2002) have also won this award, but these albums were standouts as intensely collaborative efforts. Strictly speaking, Whitney didn't create "The Bodyguard" all by herself, but without the power of her vocals the lyrics would seem flat, the musical accompaniment dated. The title of the movie refers to Costner's character, but Whitney's vocal muscles are both "body" and "guard" of this production. Her star power provides the backbone; her immeasurable talent saves everyone else's neck.

I've heard that a remake of "The Bodyguard" is in the works. I can't bring myself to feel strongly about a project so devastatingly ill-fated, partly because on some level I'm looking forward to seeing it. Terrible remakes cannot touch the sacredness of their originals if those originals are truly sacred -- few things can. Even if I never watch the whole film through again, I will always love "The Bodyguard."