I recently had occasion to spend a fair amount of time in a restroom equipped with a handy toilet-adjacent rack for bathroom reading. Among other hip fare, the basket contained a 1975 issue of Viva, a hoary, long-defunct sex magazine with cultural pretensions published by the notorious Bob Guccione. I found myself leafing through an amusing Viva interview with hitmaker Helen Reddy and her manager/husband Jeff Wald. Cocky, profane, in love, and headed for a fall, the pair made a much racier impression than anything to be found in Unjoo Moon’s new Helen Reddy biopic I Am Woman. Too bad. A little more sleaze and grit might have elevated this sincere, sometimes touching film into a more memorable experience.  

The movie arrives with two objectives. One is to tell the life story of Reddy and her rise to stardom, a plucky enterprise against the odds. Another is to reintroduce Reddy to a new generation and recast her as a trailblazer in the feminist movement with her anthem, “I Am Woman.” On this second score, it more or less succeeds. Reddy deserves renewed attention as a pop culture figure and risk-taker; her hit song inspired millions when odes to women and feminism were unheard-of in the pop and rock landscape. The biopic respectfully revisits the singer’s body of work with some snappy arrangements of well-crafted pop tunes. 

It’s in recounting her life that the film falters. From the day in 1966 that Australian-born Reddy arrives in New York City in pursuit of fame, its narrative lines unfold prosaically. Exposition leans on flat, on-the-nose dialogue. Star Tilda Cobham-Hervey has a plaintive, longing quality that can’t quite enliven the predictable challenges (sneering record executives, performing to empty lounges) and Swinging Sixties scenarios that don’t do much swinging. 

But it’s in the miscasting of Wald where the movie really loses its way. In a recent interview on the podcast JAM Nation with Jonesy & Amanda, the real Wald wisecracked that there’s an upside that Reddy has now been diagnosed with dementia: “She forgot she hates me!” Wald aggressively propelled Reddy to stardom, and their breakup was explosive; the Bronx-born impresario was a drug addict, hothead, and alpha male who captivated and terrified those around him. As Wald, Evan Peters is trim, twitchy, and not scary in the least. His thin presence lowers the stakes of Wald and Reddy’s arguments and brings down the energy, something a film skirting a made-for-TV vibe can’t afford. 

Although I Am Woman has obvious holes in its game, it feels churlish to criticize a movie with a charming star and an inspiring, feminist-friendly tale at its heart. I’ll leave you with an alternate take on the film from another magazine: “I Am Woman Is a Beautiful, Authentic Story About Fame, Love, and Motherhood.” That’s a headline from Glamour, not poor, long gone Viva.