Players

THE BLACK GODFATHER (B-minus) - This portrait of Clarence Avant -- a major connector in the music scene of the 1960s, '70s and '80s -- suffers from the classic ailments of hagiography. No one has an unkind word to say about the man who is now in his 80s and still a spitfire. Avant was a fierce advocate for not only black performers but also those who sought to break into the lily-white executive offices of the day.

Avant, in present-day interviews, is quite engaging, but you get the sense that he's pulling his punches while telling tales from the glory days. As an educational documentary (I had never heard of him), this is a winning overview of a man and a movement. His influence was felt from Bill Withers to Quincy Jones, through to Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis (and their transformation of Janet Jackson in the '80s). Countless talking heads pay homage, and their admiration and devotion is unshakeable.

Avant worked tirelessly, mostly behind the scenes, to push for inclusion and integration, inspiring generations of performers, producers and A&R people. At a full two hours, though, this documentary sags under all of the gushing. But there is no denying that Avant's story was overdue for a thorough vetting before a wider audience.

GENERATION WEALTH (C+) - In 2012, Lauren Greenfield dove into the world of excess in 2012 with a fascinating study of wealth,"The Queen of Versailles," and now she has done off the deep end with a well intentioned but completely scattershot attempted takedown of our Kardashian Kulture. At times insightful, at other times exploitive, Greenfield also gradually gets snagged by self-indulgence, somehow thinking her own life (and her relationship with her mother) are more than mildly interesting. Granted, she went to an elite Southern California school, and as a photographer she chronicled her pampered classmates in a successful book, bringing some of them back here to report on their hits and misses either striving as captains of industry or avoiding the fray with ordinary lives.

But Greenfield also can't help veering into sidebar issues, and you wonder if anyone thought to remind her of a main thesis, whatever that originally was. Too often we have to sit through Greenfield's parents justifying their own actions or psychoanalyzing their daughter. Greenfield is perpetually thumbing through her collection of photographs. And about halfway through, her critique of capitalism segues into an extended treatise about body dysmorphia, a nod to her first film, "Thin." There is much to like in this jumble, but in the end, there's too much Greenfield and not enough America in this polemic.