Jacqueline Avant and Clarence Avant attend Netflix world premiere of “THE BLACK GODFATHER at the Paramount Theater on June 3, 2019 in Los Angeles.
Quincy Jones, Jamie Foxx, Queen Latifah, Jimmy Kimmel & more attend screening of Netflix documentary, which debuts Friday.
Industry audiences can often be a tough crowd. But if the overwhelmingly thumbs-up reaction to Netflix’s world premiere of The Black Godfather on Monday night is any indication, the documentary will have a successful must-see run when it bows on the streaming network Friday and in limited theatrical release in Los Angeles and New York on the same date.
That’s because the multi-faceted career and life story of music industry veteran Clarence Avant — nicknamed the “Godfather of Black Music” — is a rollicking, two-hour ride from start to finish. Frequently laugh-out-loud funny, the documentary also doesn’t shy away from low points in Avant’s remarkable journey from high school dropout to artist manager, label executive, radio broadcaster, music publisher, powerhouse negotiator, social activist/philanthropist and Hollywood Walk of Fame inductee.
Well-known chapters in Avant’s colorful career are documented in the film, like his mentorship of the hitmaking songwriting/production duos Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis and Antonio “L.A.” Reid and Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds as well as Sony/ATV chairman/CEO Jon Platt (who named one of his twin sons after Avant). Hearing promise in the songs of an airplane assembly worker by the name of Bill Withers. Avant’s later stint as chairman of Motown Records.
But other relatively unknown stories resonate even more — like how Avant came up with the name Sussex for his record label by asking himself what do people want? Success and sex. How he stopped ABC from launching Dick Clark’s would-be rival to Don Cornelius’ popular Soul Train franchise. Defying convention back in the day by signing white guitarist Dennis Coffey to his label and managing Argentine pianist-composer Lalo Schifrin. Nearly losing his home following a severe business downturn. Giving image marketing advice to record-setting baseball legend Hank Aaron. And Avant’s legendary proclivity for cursing people out at any given moment to drive home a lesson or point of view. But the through line in everything that Avant achieved has remained consistent: to foster the next generation of black executives, artists, songwriter/producers, politicians and business entrepreneurs.
Helping the notoriously publicity-shy Avant tell his story (“I don’t make speeches, I make deals,” he says at one point) is a diverse array of artists, music industry executives, politicians, ex-presidents, close friends and family members — several of whom get very personal and emotional as they acknowledge their respect and love for the business-savvy raconteur. Beyond those aforementioned above, we’re talking names like Quincy Jones, Snoop Dogg, Sean “Diddy” Combs, Universal chief Lucian Grainge, The Azoff Company chairman/CEO Irving Azoff, football legend Jim Brown, boxing icon Muhammad Ali, diplomat/civil rights activist Andrew Young and former presidents Bill Clinton and Barack Obama.
The documentary plays out like a 2.0 version of the game “six degrees of separation,” because it’s quite unbelievable the many people that Avant has touched in his lifetime. In fact, one of the oft-repeated refrains echoed by those recalling their first encounters with Avant: “Who the fuck is this guy?!” As someone notes later in the documentary, “His job was to move us forward.”
Many of those featured in the documentary — and more — turned out for the world premiere at the Paramount Theater in Los Angeles. Spotted in the theater and later at the post-screening reception: Quincy Jones, Jamie Foxx, Sean Combs, Queen Latifah, Pharrell Williams, Ava DuVernay, Jam & Lewis, L.A. & Babyface, Norman Lear, Jimmy Kimmel, Vince Vaughn, Hank Aaron, Andrew Young, Courteney Cox and Jennifer Anniston, to name a few. And several were overheard saying that they learned things they’d never known about Avant after watching the film. Host for the evening was Netflix chief content officer and Avant’s son-in-law Ted Sarandos.
The Black Godfather, produced by Avant’s daughter Nicole Avant and directed by Reginald Hudlin, opens with Withers succinctly assessing Avant’s skill set: “He puts people together and they do what they do.” And it ends with Avant declaring, “I’ve lived a good life. If I wake up tomorrow as Warren Buffett, I’d have a better life.” To say more about what happens in between would be giving away the store. Everyone needs to watch Avant’s inspirational story and quiet power unfold for themselves.
You may have never heard of Clarence Avant, but this enigmatic manager, producer and record executive has touched the lives of a wide array of people you have heard of: Bill Withers, Hank Aaron, Barack Obama.
In his new Netflix documentary ‘The Black Godfather,’ director Reginald Hudlin lines up all those people and many more to reveal the behind-the-scenes story of Avant, now 88 years old.
This week on The Business, Hudlin explains how he got all of them to sit for interviews for a doc that drops June 7th on Netflix, possibly because Avant’s daughter is married to Ted Sarandos.
“Here’s a guy who is involved in everything you know, that you like and care about–the music you like and politicians you may vote for and athletes you support, but you don’t know who he is,” Hudlin told us about Avant.
As a child, Avant ran away from his North Carolina home after trying to poison his abusive step-father. Though he had only made it to the ninth-grade, he began managing nightclubs in New Jersey, and before long was in business with a growing roster of musicians. He moved to LA, where he ran record labels and became a power player in political fundraising.
Hudlin, the director of ‘The Black Godfather,’ is himself a multi-hyphenate: director, producer, writer, and one-time executive as the first head of BET. When he joined us in the studio to talk about his new film, we also talked about his own career, which kicked off in 1990 with ‘House Party,’ a Sundance hit that started as a short film at Harvard.
Clarence Avant in the documentary “The Black Godfather.” (Netflix)
If your currency as a documentary subject lay in the number of heavyweights taking time to sing your praises on camera with twinkles in each one’s eyes, then music industry executive Clarence Avant may be, like George Bailey in “It’s a Wonderful Life,” the richest man in town.
A poor kid from Depression-era North Carolina who rose to become a behind-the-scenes titan of managing, dealmaking and problem-solving across the spectrum of black entertainment — from a previous era’s jazz and soul royalty to today’s R&B/rap empires, with sports and politics thrown in for good measure — Avant is the no-nonsense power broker at the center of Reginald Hudlin’s affectionate, illuminating biodoc named for his showbiz moniker, “The Black Godfather.” The living embodiment of that wily line from David Mamet’s mob comedy “Things Change” — “he’s the guy behind the guy … behind the guy” — the revered but limelight-shunning octogenarian comes in for a rollicking, heartfelt series of testimonials from the likes of Quincy Jones, Berry Gordy, Hank Aaron, Andrew Young, David Geffen, Bill Clinton and Barack Obama, amongst dozens and dozens of others.
Whether his name is familiar to you or not, Avant’s reach and reputation, despite his aversion to being the center of attention, is the stuff of anecdotal gold, especially when the personality behind it is like that of the blunt, profane, wise uncle who suffers no fools yet radiates compassion. (Plenty of interviewees smile warmly at the honor of being colorfully chewed out by Avant.) After two hours of stories that paint an indelible portrait of cagey black entrepreneurship and honest mentoring — one grateful recipient of Avant’s personal advice named his first child after him — it’s hard not to imagine a cut of “The Black Godfather” out there that’s five hours long, and perhaps just as entertaining.
The unsaid details alone surrounding Avant’s music-rep beginnings in the ‘60s New York jazz scene under the tutelage of mob-connected Joe Glaser — legendary manager of Louis Armstrong — suggest a fascinating historical narrative on their own. Avant shepherded Jimmy Smith and Lalo Schifrin to storied careers, but when the latter’s desire to do film work took Avant to Hollywood, the sight of a black man handling a white artist was eye-opening, to say the least. In no time, mogul Lew Wasserman was a valuable friend and colleague.
Avant would come to build labels (Sussex, Tabu) that nurtured artists Bill Withers, Sixto Rodriguez, the SOS Band and Cherelle. He cultivated Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis as producer/kingmakers (by first telling them they weren’t asking for enough money), established the first black-owned radio station, raised funds for causes and candidates, and advised Jones, Snoop Dogg, L.A. Reid and Babyface at crossroads moments.
But the real magic lay in Avant’s back-channel efforts to get a racially entrenched industry to see the true worth of black talent — in one instance, not just producing a prime-time special that would help transition Muhammad Ali from retiring boxing star to beloved entertainment figure, but insisting that the network hire a black director for it. When Aaron neared his record-breaking 715th homer, Avant saw an opportunity to get the reserved athlete a then-unheard-of sponsorship deal from Coca-Cola (with a brazen opening pitch line to its president that, as retold here, is a spit-take-worthy classic).
Much is humorously made by myriad interviewees of the mystery surrounding Avant’s compensation for his wheeling and dealing, if there ever was any (athlete-turned-actor Jim Brown jokes he was never entirely clear what Avant’s title was). Rather, the feeling Hudlin and producer Nicole Avant, Clarence’s daughter, want to leave you with is of a fiercely engaged protector who talked a good game about getting paid — “Life is all about numbers,” Avant says on camera frequently — but whose personal reward was obviously creating a web of friends and talent who grasped the meaning of working hard, earning their due and giving back. Avant’s skin color is one aspect of his inspiring story, for sure, but the heart inside “The Black Godfather” — and the ways an honorable soul with personal power can effect meaningful change — spins its own joyful melody.
‘The Black Godfather’
Not rated
Running time: 1 hour, 58 minutes
Playing: Starts June 7, Laemmle Playhouse 7, Pasadena; also available on Netflix
Reginald Hudlin’s doc is an affectionate introduction to music power-broker Clarence Avant.
By Andrew Barker
With: Clarence Avant, Quincy Jones, Barack Obama, Sean Combs, Berry Gordy, Clive Davis, Jimmy Jam, Terry Lewis, Bill Clinton, Jamie Foxx, Bill Withers, Snoop Dogg, Lalo Schifrin, Kamala Harris, Jacqueline Avant, Nicole Avant, Alex Avant, Jerry Moss, Jon Platt, Andrew Young, Jesse Jackson, Lucian Grainge, David Geffen, Nelson George, Hank Aaron, Jim Brown.
On first glance, Clarence Avant’s career highlights seem impressive, if somewhat modest for a man widely known as “the godfather of black music.” Starting as a manager to pianist-composer Lalo Schifrin, he went on to found two important if short-lived independent record labels, serve as a sporadic concert organizer and special events producer, fund-raise for Democratic politicians, and count himself as a mentor to a host of African American execs. But the 88-year-old’s impact on half a century of black music – and black enterprise in general – runs far, far deeper than that, and Reginald Hudlin’s affectionate Netflix bio-doc “The Black Godfather” does yeoman’s work introducing a figure that few outsiders have likely heard of, but who needs no introduction in the power corridors of the entertainment industry.
Perhaps the most obvious sign of Avant’s importance can be found in a brief look through the figures who agreed to sit for interviews here: From industry power-brokers (Berry Gordy, Clive Davis, Quincy Jones, Jerry Moss) to civil rights icons (Andrew Young, Jesse Jackson), Avant’s former signings and protégés (Bill Withers, Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis, L.A. Reid & Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds), and even two former presidents and one potential future one (Barack Obama, Bill Clinton, Kamala Harris). Avant’s friend circle is wide, and each of these heavyweights appear to know him intimately. Yet he was more than just a well-connected mover and shaker, and Hudlin’s film is most insightful in illustrating just how much the model of the modern black entertainment mogul was made in Avant’s image.
Profane, pugnacious, and sometimes plainspokenly profound, Avant grew up in a tiny town in North Carolina, moved to New York and fell under the tutelage of mob-connected music manager Joe Glaser, and eventually alighted to L.A., where he founded labels Sussex Records and later Tabu. But his true legacy lies in his off-the-books efforts to help other black entrepreneurs get the treatment and compensation they deserved. Whether it was advising Jam and Lewis to ask for more money, insisting that a TV network hire a black director for a Muhammad Ali tribute special, or helping save Don Cornelius’ “Soul Train” from a rival show by Dick Clark, Avant was well ahead of his time in recognizing the importance of black entertainers and athletes having an ownership stake in the businesses to which they contribute so disproportionately.
Hudlin, a longtime film and TV director here making his first documentary, does well to provide the necessary historical contexts around Avant’s biggest career moves, with the likes of Cicely Tyson explaining just how unusual it was to see a black man, much less one as colorful and country as Clarence, throwing his weight around in white-dominated industries. “The Black Godfather” is, however, produced by its subject’s daughter, Nicole Avant, and along with the access that provides comes an element of insider clubbiness that isn’t always helpful. Too often, you have to use your imagination to figure out exactly what it was Avant did, specifically, that allowed him to pull off so many impressive deals and to leave such an oversized footprint. (NFL great Jim Brown, who credits Avant with convincing him to launch an acting career, likely speaks for many in the audience when he says, “I kept hearing about this guy Clarence Avant, but no one seemed to know what his actual official title was.”)
Sometimes this is understandable – when Sean Combs mentions of Avant, “he kept my ass out of jail one or two times,” you hardly expect him to elaborate on the particulars – but it’s when Hudlin does manage to ferret out the details that a deeper understanding of Avant starts to emerge.
Hank Aaron, for example, recalls how Avant took it upon himself to secure him sponsorship deals as he inched toward Babe Ruth’s home run record – Avant’s bull in a china shop tactics to pitch Aaron for an endorsement with Coca-Cola are hilariously audacious. A more emotional side of Avant is revealed by music publishing mogul Jon Platt, who was on the verge of getting a divorce when he called up Avant expecting some “guy talk” consolation, and instead got an earful from the irate godfather. (Platt ended up patching up his marriage, and naming one of his sons Clarence.)
Unlike most music power-players of his stature, Avant has long been reticent to thrust himself toward center stage, and his sardonic, no-fools-suffered wit here helps cut through the sometimes excessive quantity of glowing testimonials the film stacks up in his honor. (The disdainful shrug he offers after conceding, “yeah, I had some hit records” is worth the price of admission alone.) But when David Geffen notes of Avant’s role as an all-purpose mentor, “I don’t know how he made a living – he never seems to charge people,” you wish the filmmakers would pose that question to the man himself. “Life is all about the numbers,” Avant says more than once here. So how did he make them add up for himself?
Perhaps, unlike most music power-players of his stature, he just understands the importance of keeping some things close to the vest.
Film Review: ‘The Black Godfather’
Reviewed at Paramount Studios, Los Angeles, June 3, 2019.
PRODUCTION: A Netflix presentation. Produced by Byron Phillips, Nelson George, Caitrin Rogers, Nicole Avant. Executive producers: Andrew Fried, Dane Lillegard, Ann Finnegan, Reginald Hudlin, Angus Wall, Jennifer Sofio-Hall.
CREW: Directed by Reginald Hudlin. Camera (color): Matthew Chavez. Editors: Wyatt Jones, Will Znidaric. Music: Jasha Klebe.
WITH: Clarence Avant, Quincy Jones, Barack Obama, Sean Combs, Berry Gordy, Clive Davis, Jimmy Jam, Terry Lewis, Bill Clinton, Jamie Foxx, Bill Withers, Snoop Dogg, Lalo Schifrin, Kamala Harris, Jacqueline Avant, Nicole Avant, Alex Avant, Jerry Moss, Jon Platt, Andrew Young, Jesse Jackson, Lucian Grainge, David Geffen, Nelson George, Hank Aaron, Jim Brown.
