Song Sung Blue brings a gentle, often disarming dignity to the art of imitation.
Inspired by Greg Kohs’ 2008 documentary of the same name, it largely sidesteps the trap of becoming a jukebox curio thanks to Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson’s open-hearted performances, which ground the film in emotional sincerity rather than novelty. What begins as a crowd-pleasing ode to second chances and unlikely stardom gradually reveals itself as something more contemplative and, at times, more challenging.
The early passages play like a warm embrace of sorts. Mike Sardina (Jackman), a Don Ho impersonator who refuses to disappear into costume anymore, and Claire Stengl (Hudson), on the cusp of becoming a Patsy Cline tribute act, stumble into Neil Diamond almost by accident. Their transformation into “Lightning and Thunder” is treated with affectionate humor and a genuine respect for performance as both craft and calling; Jackman, in particular, captures the vulnerability of a man discovering that imitation can still be an act of truth, while Hudson’s Claire radiates both resolve and romantic hope. Together, they sell the joy of finding connection through music.
Midway through the film, however, Song Sung Blue takes a sharp tonal turn. Claire’s involvement in a car accident and subsequent mental health spiral drain some of the buoyancy that initially propels the story. This shift isn’t misguided – if anything, it deepens the film’s emotional ambitions – but it does alter expectations. What had felt like a steadily joyous tribute-band crowd-pleaser becomes a bittersweet meditation on loss, dependency, and resilience. For viewers anticipating an unbroken celebration of Neil Diamond songs and feel-good triumphs, the change may be jarring.
Still, the film earns its quieter, heavier moments. Its portrayal of addiction, caregiving, and the strain love endures under trauma is handled with sensitivity, if not always narrative momentum. The final act, culminating in simultaneous success and devastating loss, reinforces the film’s core belief: that music can be both ephemeral and eternal, joyfully shared and painfully personal.
The performances are where Song Sung Blue most consistently finds its footing. Jackman is solid in the way we’ve come to expect – open, sincere, and instinctively musical – but the real revelation is Hudson, whose work here is a welcome reminder of an emotional depth she hasn’t always been given space to explore on screen. She brings steel and fragility in equal measure, particularly as Claire’s sense of self fractures and reforms. Jim Belushi adds welcome comic weight as “Lightning and Thunder’s” manager, grounding the film with lived-in warmth. There’s also lovely, thoughtful work from Ella Anderson and King Princess as Rachel and Angela, the daughters from, respectively, Claire and Mike’s first marriages. Initially uneasy allies, the girls find genuine affection and mutual respect, both for each other and for their parents. Anderson, in particular, forms a tender, quietly devastating bond with Jackman, especially in the wake of Claire’s accident, as Rachel is pushed into the painful position of having to parent the very people meant to be looking after her.
Similarly, Craig Brewer’s direction is confident and assured, even if it occasionally leans a little too heavily into emotional signposting. He has a natural affinity for stories about performance and identity, and that instinct serves the material well (he also wrote the script), particularly in the early, music-driven passages. While Song Sung Blue never quite reaches the raw, gut-level intensity of Hustle & Flow or the vastly underrated Black Snake Moan, Brewer still brings a sense of empathy and clarity to the storytelling, guiding the film with a steady hand even when its emotions are carefully, rather than fiercely, drawn.
By its final movements, Song Sung Blue has fully shed any illusion of being merely a tribute act itself. It’s a tender, imperfect film – one that may lose some wind in its sails along the way, but ultimately finds grace in its refusal to end on a purely triumphant note. Like the song that gives it its name, it understands that happiness and sorrow often harmonise, whether we’re ready for them to or not.
THREE AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Song Sung Blue is screening in Australian theatres from New Year’s Day, January 1st, 2026.
