And it got glamorous. Cannes was the epitome of red carpets, with tons of international paparazzi (you better believe Ms. Weiss was left on the screen and Mariah Carey, in full effect, was there). The European press tour was fabulous, full of red carpets, dozens of couture gowns, and a thousand parties, including a secret one on Roberto Cavalli’s yacht. Precious won awards wherever it went. The biggest night was the 82nd Annual Academy Awards. The film received six nominations, including best picture, best director, and best actress, and won best supporting actress for Mo’Nique and best adapted screenplay for Geoffrey Fletcher—making him the first African American to win in that category.
I also won a few awards for my small but significant role. I won the Breakthrough Performance Award at the Palm Springs International Film Festival, where Lee and I were extra festive, using our pet names onstage (me, “Kitten,” and him, “Cotton”), laughing, and whispering to each other. And, okay, maybe we were a little tipsy too, but it was one of those bottles-on-all-the-tables award shows! Mostly we were totally thrilled.
I was thrilled. Not only did Precious give me public validation for my acting after Glitter, but because Lee believed in me, I was able to believe in myself again as an actress. It was evidence that with the right material and the right people (with the right vision), I could seriously pursue acting. Lee later gave me another unexpected and challenging role as Hattie Pearl, mother of Cecil Gaines (the main character) and field slave in The Butler. Lee easily saw in me what so few dared to even look for, and we have a rare and real connection. A trust.
DIVAS
diva (n): A distinguished and celebrated female singer; a woman of outstanding talent in the world of opera (usually soprano) and by extension in theater, cinema, and popular music.
My definition of diva is the classic one.
Aretha Franklin is my high bar and North Star, a masterful musician and mind-bogglingly gifted singer who wouldn’t let one genre confine or define her. I listened to and learned from all of her. When she was in her late teens she moved from singing gospel to jazz—or rather, she added jazz to her repertoire, because she never moved from gospel. (One of my favorite albums of hers is still gospel: One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism.) And when she sang standards, there was nothing at all standard about her delivery. She brought a soulfulness to everything that was all her own.
Aretha had a bigger vision for herself. Her debut album had “I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You),” “Do Right Woman, Do Right Man,” and “Respect,” placing her on top of the R & B and pop charts. There was a great Aretha song in every era of my life.
I still believe most people don’t understand how amazing she was as a pianist and arranger. I think if you are a woman, with an incredible voice, your musicianship always gets underplayed. I had the distinct honor of working with Big Jim Wright as a producer and musical director. Big Jim had worked with Aretha Franklin, and he told me, when Aretha felt the spirit, she would tap him on the shoulder, and that would be his cue to get up from the piano, where she would sit down and commence to play.
The first time I met Ms. Franklin was at the Grammys—my first year, when I was nominated for five awards. What wrecked my nerves was not that I’d only been in the business for about six months, and I was performing at the Grammys for millions of viewers on live TV, and every big music star was in the audience: I was most concerned about the fact that I had to sing in front of her. The one who I thought was the one, Ms. Aretha Franklin. I had to sing “Vision of Love” with Aretha Franklin sitting in the front row. Many times I had visualized a dream of singing at big awards shows, but I never imagined I would have to do so in front of my idol on my first go-round. I couldn’t even sleep the night before. The day of rehearsal, I summoned the courage to go up to her. She was quietly sitting in the front row, on the left-hand side. I knelt down by her seat (because that’s what one does in the presence).
“Ms. Franklin, I just wanted to say thank you. My name is Mariah,” I said. Humbly, I went on, “I just wanted to say thank you, from all of the singers that you’ve inspired. Thank you. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Years later, she said to me, “Mariah, you’ve always had good manners, and that’s the thing that most of these young girls are lacking. It’s the manners. They don’t have them.” I couldn’t imagine doing any less for someone who gave the world so much. I got through the performance of “Vision of Love” and won Best New Artist and Best Pop Vocal Performance. Later, I totally scrutinized my performance at the Grammys that night, and I heard every nuance I missed. But I sang before the Queen.
My next great encounter with her was in 1998, when I was asked to perform for VH1’s Divas Live show, for which they were going to do an Aretha Franklin tribute. Of course I said yes, because it was Aretha, and when you are summoned to pay homage to the Queen, you jump, jump, jump to it. When I arrived the day before the show for rehearsal, Aretha was giving the producer something he could feel. Ken Ehrlich is a giant in the industry. He has produced
