Song Sung Blue (2025) Movie Review: Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson Shine in an Earnestly Sentimental Tribute to Dreamers and Neil Diamond

Craig Brewer's "Song Sung Blue" wears its heart—and its sequined jacket—on its sleeve. This is a film that opens with a man singing Neil Diamond at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and never once pretends to be cool about it. Based on the true story of Mike and Claire Sardina, a Milwaukee mechanic and hairdresser who became local legends through their Neil Diamond tribute act Lightning & Thunder, this Drama is unabashedly sentimental, proudly uncool, and determined to make you sing along whether you want to or not. Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson deliver performances that radiate genuine warmth and musical prowess, bringing authentic chemistry to a couple who found love and purpose covering "Sweet Caroline" in casino showrooms across the Midwest. Adapted from Greg Kohs' 2008 documentary, Brewer's screenplay celebrates what he calls "Karaoke Culture"—the religious dream that ordinary people can channel extraordinary artists and create something sublime in the process. This is a Music film that treats tribute band glory with the same seriousness other biopics reserve for rock legends, asking whether pursuing happiness in small venues matters as much as chasing fame on grand stages. The first hour sparkles with joyous energy as Mike and Claire fall in love and build their act, but the second half piles on tragedies—car accidents, addiction relapses, teen pregnancy, health crises—with such relentless intensity that tonal whiplash sets in. This 2025 Film from Focus Features aims straight for the heartstrings and mostly hits its target, even if the melodrama occasionally overwhelms the genuine emotion underneath.

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Director: Craig Brewer
Writer: Craig Brewer
Cast: Hugh Jackman, Kate Hudson, Michael Imperioli, Ella Anderson, King Princess, Mustafa Shakir, Hudson Hensley, Fisher Stevens, Jim Belushi
Genres: Biography, Drama, History, Music, Musical
Runtime: 2 hours 11 minutes (131 minutes)
Release Date: December 25, 2025

Late 1980s, Wisconsin State Fair. Among the Elvis and Streisand impersonators performing at a "Legends" showcase, Claire Stengl takes the stage as Patsy Cline, delivering a heartfelt "Walkin' After Midnight." Backstage, Mike Sardina—scheduled to perform as Don Ho singing "Tiny Bubbles"—quits on the spot, fed up with being someone else. But before he leaves, Claire tells him he should try Neil Diamond instead. That casual suggestion sparks a partnership that will define both their lives. Mike is a divorced Vietnam veteran, 20 years sober, working odd jobs and playing music anywhere that will have him. Claire is a single mother and hairdresser struggling to keep her head above water. Neither is thriving—they're surviving. Together, they create Lightning & Thunder, not just another tribute act but what they insist is a "Neil Diamond experience." What begins as a way to pay bills transforms into something more: a vehicle for healing, connection, and the radical idea that ordinary people deserve extraordinary joy. Their ascent through Milwaukee's casino circuit, culminating in opening for Pearl Jam when grunge hipsters ironically embraced their parents' music, represents a kind of blue-collar American dream. But tragedy—multiple tragedies—will test whether their love and music can survive devastating setbacks.

Story and Screenplay

Craig Brewer's screenplay, based on real events documented in Kohs' film, makes a fascinating central argument: that covering Neil Diamond songs in Midwestern casinos is a worthy pursuit of meaning and happiness. This isn't a story about nobodies dreaming of becoming somebodies—it's about people finding fulfillment being exactly who they are, in venues that will never make them famous or rich. That thematic choice sets "Song Sung Blue" apart from typical music biopics focused on meteoric rises to stardom.

The first hour executes this premise beautifully. Brewer, who previously made "Hustle & Flow" and "Dolemite Is My Name," understands how to capture the joy of performance and the camaraderie of underdogs supporting each other. The early sequences showing Mike and Claire's first rehearsal—ripping through "Crunchy Granola Suite" with such gusto that even the crabby neighbor dances while watering her lawn—establish the film's infectious energy. Their romance develops naturally through shared musical passion rather than manufactured meet-cute moments.

The screenplay celebrates what Brewer calls "Karaoke Culture"—the idea that channeling great artists with skill and passion creates its own sublime art form. Mike isn't trying to impersonate Neil Diamond; he's interpreting Diamond's essence, bringing his own lived experience to songs about longing, resilience, and finding joy despite hardship. The script draws a clear distinction between performers like Mike, who honor the music with genuine reverence, and the "bom bom bom" crowd who reduce "Sweet Caroline" to a drunken singalong without understanding its emotional depth.

Where the screenplay falters—and falters hard—is in its second and third acts, which pile tragedy upon tragedy with exhausting relentlessness. Claire loses a leg in a freak car accident. Mike suffers repeated heart attacks he can't afford to treat. Claire descends into depression and painkiller addiction. Their teenage daughter gets pregnant. Mike tries fixing a head wound with nail glue. The tragedies arrive with such frequency and intensity that the film loses its emotional center, lurching from one crisis to the next without adequate time to process any of them.

This structural problem stems from trying to compress decades of real life into 131 minutes. Important storylines get reduced to single scenes: Rachel's unplanned pregnancy is introduced and resolved within what feels like two minutes. Claire's mental health struggles plunge her into darkness, then a brief therapy session apparently fixes everything. Mike's serious heart condition disappears and reappears based on plot convenience. The screenplay touches on addiction, PTSD, disability, healthcare bureaucracy, and poverty without giving any topic the depth it deserves.

The dialogue occasionally veers into on-the-nose territory, with characters stating themes rather than embodying them. When Mike says "Sobriety makes you confront some hard truths. I know I'm not a star or a songwriter, I just want to entertain people and make a living," it's earnest but feels written for the audience rather than spoken by the character. Similarly, discussions about how "nostalgia sells" and whether tribute acts have artistic validity feel more like thesis statements than natural conversations.

The screenplay's treatment of disability deserves specific criticism. After Claire's accident, she's portrayed through tired stereotypes: the bitter, drugged-out disabled person whose tragedy must be mourned. Rather than exploring how she adapts and continues performing with a prosthetic leg, the script wallows in her suffering before quickly resolving it. This feels less like honest portrayal and more like "inspiration porn"—using disability as a dramatic obstacle to overcome rather than a reality to navigate.

The film also doesn't know when to end, offering three separate conclusions when one would suffice. Each potential ending point provides emotional closure, but Brewer keeps going, diluting the impact. The final sequence—which I won't spoil—strains credulity to the point where you wonder if it actually happened or represents wishful embellishment.

Acting and Characters

Hugh Jackman delivers exactly what you'd expect from him: charismatic showmanship, genuine warmth, and impressive musical ability. His Mike is a dreamer who's already been beaten down by life but refuses to give up on finding joy. Jackman captures the 20-years-sober veteran's quiet strength, his fatherly tenderness with Claire's kids, and his absolute reverence for Neil Diamond's music. Watch how he moves during performance scenes—he's not doing an impersonation but channeling something deeper, making Diamond's songs about resilience and hope feel autobiographical.

Jackman's vocal performances are outstanding. His versions of "Cracklin' Rosie," "Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show," and especially "Soolaimon" (with its eerie Arabic chant building to ecstatic groove) demonstrate both technical skill and emotional investment. He makes you understand why audiences would pay to see Mike perform rather than just listen to Neil Diamond records. There's a lived-in quality to his interpretation, a sense that these songs mean something personal.

Where Jackman's performance struggles is in the melodramatic second half, when the script demands he stoically endure crisis after crisis. He tries to ground the increasing absurdity, but even his considerable talents can't fully sell scenes like applying nail glue to a serious head wound or bouncing back from heart attacks without medical intervention.

Kate Hudson delivers what many critics are calling her best work since "Almost Famous." Her Claire is vanity-free—a Midwestern hairdresser with a convincing accent, struggling with depression and financial stress, finding genuine happiness only when performing. Hudson's early scenes radiate infectious joy; watch her face light up during their first rehearsal or their wedding performance. She matches Jackman note-for-note vocally, with warm, full-bodied renditions of Patsy Cline classics and beautiful harmonies on Diamond duets.

The transformation Hudson undergoes after Claire's accident is impressive on a technical level—she convincingly portrays physical and psychological anguish, addiction's grip, and bitter rage at what life has taken from her. However, the performance sometimes tips into overacting, particularly in scenes where she's screaming at Mike or stumbling around drugged. The script's melodramatic excesses bring out theatrical choices that feel more Oscar-baiting than authentic.

The chemistry between Jackman and Hudson is the film's greatest asset. They don't just have romantic chemistry (though they do); they have the rapport of true performing partners who elevate each other. Their duets feel genuine, their banter natural, their love believable. When they're on stage together, radiating happiness at audiences, you understand completely why they stayed together through multiple tragedies.

Michael Imperioli brings grounded energy as Mark, the 52-year-old Buddy Holly impersonator who realizes he's been performing a dead 22-year-old's act for three decades longer than Holly lived. It's a poignant subplot about tribute performers confronting mortality and relevance. Imperioli's decision to become their guitarist after hanging up Buddy's glasses provides nice character development in a film that often rushes past supporting players.

Ella Anderson as Rachel, Claire's teenage daughter, does solid work navigating initial resistance to her new stepfather before forming genuine connection. King Princess (playing Mike's daughter Angelina) brings authentic indie musician energy to her limited screen time, creating believable friendship with Rachel.

Jim Belushi as casino booker Tom D'Amato feels cartoonishly broad compared to the more naturalistic performances around him. Fisher Stevens as Mike's dentist-turned-manager gets a few funny moments but feels underutilized. The supporting ensemble generally works well, though many characters appear too briefly to make lasting impressions.

Direction and Technical Aspects

Craig Brewer directs with polish and confidence, if not always restraint. Working with cinematographer Amy Vincent, he creates a visual style that's warm and inviting during performance scenes, appropriately drab during struggles with poverty and tragedy. The casino stages are lit with appropriate glitz, Mike's garage rehearsal space feels lived-in and authentic, and the Wisconsin locations ground the story in specific place.

Brewer's greatest strength as director is staging musical performances. Unlike many music biopics that frustratingly shuffle through song fragments, he lets numbers play out at length, understanding that we need to feel the full emotional journey of a performance. The first full band rehearsal of "Crunchy Granola Suite" is a joyous highlight. Claire's solo on "I've Been This Way Before" showcases Hudson's vocal ability and her character's emotional investment. The "Soolaimon" performance captures the song's mystical, ecstatic power.

Editor Billy Fox deserves credit for montages that advance narrative while amplifying emotional impact. The sequences showing Lightning & Thunder's rising popularity, their wedding performance, their casino circuit success—all flow naturally while building momentum. However, Fox can't solve the script's fundamental pacing problems. The second half's lurching from crisis to crisis creates tonal whiplash no amount of skilled editing can smooth.

Brewer makes some curious directorial choices that undermine the material. Multiple dream sequences feel unnecessary in a film already struggling with tonal consistency. The decision to visually emphasize Claire's disability through repeated shots of her prosthetic leg feels exploitative rather than honest. Some transitions between scenes are jarring, particularly when jumping forward in time without clear markers.

The production design effectively recreates late '80s through '90s Milwaukee without being precious about period details. The costumes—particularly Lightning & Thunder's increasingly elaborate stage outfits of sequins, glitter, and satin—walk a fine line between authentic and cartoonish, mostly landing on the right side.

Trailer Song Sung Blue (2025)

Music and Atmosphere

Composer Scott Bomar serves as executive music producer, and the Neil Diamond catalog is treated with genuine reverence throughout. The arrangements stay faithful to the originals while allowing room for Jackman and Hudson's interpretations. "Sweet Caroline" gets the inevitable centerpiece treatment, but the film also showcases deeper cuts like "Holly Holy," "Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show," and the gorgeous ballad "Play Me."

The atmosphere Brewer creates is one of earnest sentimentality—this is a film that believes sincerely in the power of music to heal, connect, and redeem. There's no ironic distance, no winking at the audience about how cheesy tribute acts might be. The filmmakers genuinely believe that singing Neil Diamond covers in Milwaukee casinos is a noble pursuit, and that commitment is both the film's greatest strength and occasional weakness.

When the film stays in that sincere, joyful space, it's infectious. The problem is when Brewer piles on so much melodrama that the earnestness tips into manipulation. You can feel the film working hard to make you cry during Claire's lowest moments, and that transparent emotional engineering creates resistance rather than catharsis.

Strengths and Weaknesses

What Works:

• Hugh Jackman's charismatic, vocally impressive performance as Mike
• Kate Hudson's career-best dramatic work since "Almost Famous"
• The genuine chemistry between Jackman and Hudson as performing partners
• Full-length musical performances that showcase the songs' emotional power
• The first hour's joyous energy and authentic romance
• The film's sincere argument that ordinary people's dreams matter
• Michael Imperioli's poignant supporting performance
• Strong ensemble work from the blended family
• Craig Brewer's skillful staging of musical sequences
• The celebration of "Karaoke Culture" and tribute performers
• Authentic Milwaukee locations and period details
• The refusal to be ironically distant or too cool for its subject

What Doesn't:

• Relentless second-half melodrama that piles tragedy upon tragedy
• Tonal whiplash from crisis to crisis without adequate processing time
• Problematic portrayal of disability as tragedy to overcome
• Rushed resolution of important storylines (teen pregnancy, addiction, mental health)
• Multiple endings when one would suffice
• 131-minute runtime that feels both too long and too rushed
• Some overacting during the film's most melodramatic moments
• Occasional on-the-nose dialogue that states themes too explicitly
• Underdeveloped supporting characters who disappear for long stretches
• Dream sequences that feel unnecessary
• Healthcare and poverty issues touched on but never explored with depth
• The script's tendency to solve complex problems too quickly or off-screen

Final Verdict

Rating: ★★★☆☆ (3/5)

"Song Sung Blue" is a film with its heart firmly in the right place, even when its execution stumbles. Craig Brewer has crafted an earnest celebration of ordinary people finding extraordinary joy in music, refusing to apologize for sentimentality or concern itself with being cool. That commitment is admirable and occasionally affecting, particularly in a first hour that radiates genuine warmth and infectious energy.

Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson are the film's saving grace, bringing chemistry and vocal ability that makes you root for their characters even when the screenplay puts them through increasingly absurd tribulations. Jackman's natural charisma and showmanship make Mike's reverence for Neil Diamond convincing rather than kitschy. Hudson's vanity-free performance shows range she hasn't displayed in years, even if the material sometimes pushes her toward overacting.

The musical performances justify the film's existence. Watching Jackman and Hudson pour themselves into these songs, you understand the transcendent potential of channeling great art with passion and skill. The film makes a compelling case that there's dignity and meaning in being Milwaukee's favorite Neil Diamond tribute act, that pursuing happiness in small venues matters as much as chasing fame on grand stages. This thematic argument—that ordinary dreams deserve celebration—resonates in ways the melodramatic plotting sometimes obscures.

Where "Song Sung Blue" fails is in trusting its own premise. The first hour proves that Mike and Claire's love story and musical journey are inherently interesting without manufactured drama. But the second half apparently didn't trust audiences to stay engaged without constant tragedy. The result is emotional whiplash as the screenplay sprints from car accidents to addiction to heart attacks to teen pregnancy without giving any crisis the space to breathe or resonate.

The treatment of Claire's disability particularly disappoints. Rather than exploring how a performer adapts to a prosthetic leg and continues pursuing her passion (which would be genuinely inspiring), the film wallows in bitter victimhood before quickly resolving it. This feels less like honest portrayal and more like checking a "overcoming adversity" box on the inspirational biopic checklist.

At 131 minutes, the film feels simultaneously too long (the melodramatic second act drags) and too rushed (important storylines get resolved in minutes). A tighter edit might have helped, but the fundamental problem is structural—trying to pack decades of life, multiple tragedies, and complex themes into a runtime that can't accommodate everything. This might have worked better as a limited series with room to breathe.

Despite these significant flaws, "Song Sung Blue" will likely find its audience. This is unapologetically a film for people who love Neil Diamond unironically, who believe in the power of music to heal, who want to see ordinary people's stories treated with respect. It's a Christmas Day release positioned as family-friendly entertainment, and on that level it mostly succeeds—it will make audiences smile, cry, and probably sing along.

The film asks an important question: Do you need to be a star to matter? Mike explicitly says he knows he's not a songwriter or legend, he just wants to entertain people and make a living. "Song Sung Blue" argues that this is enough, that bringing joy to casino audiences and Thai restaurant karaoke nights is a meaningful way to spend a life. In our culture obsessed with fame and exceptionalism, that's a genuinely radical message worth celebrating.

If only the film had trusted that message enough to let it carry the story without drowning it in melodrama.

Recommended for: Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson fans, Neil Diamond enthusiasts seeking unironic celebration of his music, viewers who enjoy earnest, sentimental stories about ordinary people's dreams, families seeking holiday entertainment, audiences who believe in the redemptive power of music, fans of Craig Brewer's previous underdog stories, anyone who's ever sung karaoke and felt momentarily transcendent.

Not recommended for: Cynics allergic to sentimentality, viewers seeking subtle or restrained storytelling, those sensitive to portrayals of disability, addiction, or mental health issues, audiences tired of music biopics regardless of approach, people who find Neil Diamond's music corny or dated, anyone seeking tight, focused narratives without melodramatic excess.

"Song Sung Blue" opens in theaters December 25, 2025. For more diverse Film Reviews across all genres, explore our coverage of 2025 Films and dive into our sections on Drama and Music cinema.