Lead Vocals

RAISE HELL: THE LIFE AND TIMES OF MOLLY IVINS (B+) - This occasionally fawning but heartfelt documentary traces the journey of the bookish girl from East Texas who defied her roots and became a folksy liberal icon in the world of newspaper columnists and crusaders. Veteran documentarian Janice Engel (long ago she did a "Behind the Music" on Shania Twain) lets Ivins, who died in 2007, do a lot of the talking in file footage, much of it, refreshingly, from C-SPAN, bless her heart.

Ivins was a loner and a drinker who bounced around from newspaper to newspaper throughout her career, and her flaws are not swept under the rug, though they are, at times, treated with kid gloves. (Just how chummy was she with those sources in the Texas legislature back in the day, and how tough can you be on your drinking buddies?) Her habits catch up to her at the end, as the last decade of her life involved some rough health challenges.

But she soldiered on, and she was not only a refreshing voice but quite the prophet at times. Is there any doubt that she foresaw endless wars and a president more buffoonish than Dubya? Engel does a fine job of digging down to the origin story and then methodically chronicling the career. There are a few what-ifs at the end regarding an acerbic polemicist who burned out at age 62 and who is sorely missed.

LINDA RONSTADT: THE SOUND OF MY VOICE (B) - This is a choppy but affecting paint-by-numbers biography of the woman who was one of the key musical artists of the 1970s. As the title suggests, the film celebrates Linda Ronstadt and that indelible voice of hers.

Longtime collaborators Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman bring out big-time talking heads (Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, Don Henley) and divvy up the archival footage; however, there are not many insights that go much beyond how nice Ronstadt was and how talented she was. Ronstadt narrates through voice-overs, and her Parkinson's is probably responsible for her not appearing on camera for the current interviews and for the stilted nature of her observations.

This pays workmanlike homage to a superstar who took chances and honored her roots. There are several particularly touching passages, but none more powerful than the final scene when Ronstadt finally appears on camera, flanked by musician family members, to shakily sing a classic cancione. It's both heart-warming and heart-breaking and is worth the price of admission right there.