Well, sure, Ray Charles did sing it, beautifully, I might add--but he also sang, even better, "The Train" (not about a choo-choo) and "Let's Go Get Stoned" (not necessarily about hooch).

Offering small glimpses into the legend and life of Charles with a pretty, paint-by-numbers approach that screams "cable movie," Hackford takes on what is truly a colossal task-encapsulating this great man's life in two and a half hours.

The narrative moves for the most part chronologically, choosing to begin in 1948 when 17-year-old Ray journeys to Seattle, the city in which he formed the McSon trio and met his lifelong friend, Quincy Jones. It ambles along with his touring the Chitin circuit, his musical ascension, his marriage to Della Bea (Kerry Washington), his many affairs (chiefly singer Margie Hendrix, played by Regina King and Mary Ann Fisher played by Aunjanue Ellis), his heroin use and, in the film's greatest sequences, his performing and recording of music. When the movie delves into Ray creating a name for himself innovating a new style of music, blending gospel and blues (to many Christians's disapproval), it's at its most compelling. Signing on to Atlantic Records with mentors Ahmet Ertegun (Curtis Armstrong) and Jerry Wexler (Richard Schiff), it's a small kick to watch RAY, and really, Foxx as Ray, record his songs. His negotiations are somewhat intriguing as well. As portent of his tight business practices to come (many would say cold-hearted), Ray in earlier gigs, insisted on being paid in singles so not to be cheated. When he's torn over leaving Atlantic, he changes his tune quickly after the sweet deal at ABC-Paramount where he was the first artist to own his own masters. The reaction Ertegun displays is not consistent with fact (Atlantic was pissed) but Hackford probably wanted to drive home how we should understand Ray's later strictness. After enduring a past where others, dreadfully, attempted to short-change a blind man, who can blame him for leaving others behind?

Never one to forget his roots, the film dips into flashback mode to tell the story of his upbringing, a part of his life that Charles once said: "Even compared to other blacks...we were on the bottom of the ladder looking up at everyone else. Nothing below us except the ground." Shot in a saturated-colored, dreamlike quality, these moments recall Ray watching his brother drown and losing his sight at seven years old. His strong-minded mother (though Charles for a time, had two mothers) aided him in becoming a person of incredible self-reliance (Charles never used a cane or a seeing-eye dog) and in one scene many will find utter treacle, she watches, in tears, her young son fall while never lifting a finger to help him. Wandering around their shack he uses his hearing and touch to pick up a bug and, wiping away his tears, happily, listens to its chirping. It's potentially corny and verging on poetic license overload, but given Charles's stupendous musical ear, it's not entirely out of bounds.

But other forays into his past don't work as blamelessly. Hackford uses the mother/brother drama as a thread throughout the picture to showcase a haunted Charles and perhaps a reason for his drug use. Sorry, too simple. Charles in real life blamed his usage on himself and frequently cited junk as well...fun- a great way to feel good. And he replaced that beloved drug with loads of alcohol and reefer. And certainly it's no secret that the death of his brother remained a heartbreak but Hackford turns the watery death into something that, in one scene, plays off like Brian De Palma's CARRIE. In one scene, Ray reaches into his suitcase only to see (or imagine seeing-remember he was blind) water and a little hand emerging, horror-movie style, out of his nicely pressed closed. His brother! Another shows Ray flipping out when a hotel hallway is suddenly filled with water. Drugs or his brother? Or even worse, schizophrenic hallucinations? Was he insane?

So far as his biographers know, Ray Charles wasn't nuts. And thankfully, Foxx with his perfected impersonation of Charles, right down to the staggered speaking manner and rocking body, gets us past these ridiculous moments by providing the film with its joy and depth. In moments of cheekiness, it is FOXX who captures the charm and sexual appeal of Charles, a guy who though professional, even when high, loved women and fun, characteristically refraining from discussing his problems and instead, bleeding through his music. And lip-synching to Charles' melodies, the chameleon-like Foxx masterfully re-creates Ray's performances, including a zenith not only in Charles career, but in the annals of popular music. In a moment that seems like movie fantasy but isn't, Charles, after running out of material during a gig begins messing with a bass riff on his electric piano while instructing the band and his back-up singers, the Raylettes (to be one you had to "Let Ray"), to follow what he's doing. The result? An improvised, raucous version of "What'd I Say" the song that made the call and response of "Unnnh! Unnnh! Oh! Oh!" a monster cross-over hit. Elvis would later sing it (quite well) to a sexed-up Ann-Margret in VIVA LAS VEGAS.

But at this and this moment only, during which RAY feels vivacious and soulful, Hackford cuts it too short. In fact, all the songs play too short. And, there are not enough songs. For a fan, that's a letdown. If you can't make the picture soulful, at least let Charles' music do the talking. Even Charles's later Diet Pepsi commercials ("You've got the right one bay-bay!") were cooler than much of this movie. Here's some proof. A friend of mine who did time in a Georgia Penitentiary said that the black inmates so loved those ads, they would cheer for Charles. And, to further amp the musician's power (I'm not making this up), the catchphrase to begin many a fight was: "You wanna fuck with me? You got the RIGHT one, baby!"

But RAY never taps into the infinite grittiness and cool of Ray Charles. Instead, it drops down into stock trappings of the biopic. Great directors understand that even if facts are altered or characters condensed (as is the case with Ray), the thrust of the film moves beyond the character's biography and into deeper waters. Whether a film is sweet-natured, like Tim Burton's ED WOOD, or unrelentingly disturbing like Martin Scorsese's RAGING BULL, an excellent biopic shouldn't feel like a biopic and instead should feel like a movie that connotes a passion and vision that resonates beyond its subject. Though RAY is certainly inspirational (how can Ray Charles's life not be?), the film rarely penetrates.

And, as consistent with Hackford, the film is also rarely cool. Dare I say it but RAY is square. Cheese and Crackahs! How can you do that to Ray Charles?

Read More Kim Morgan at her blog Sunset Gun .

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