Just as news of Anderson Cooper's talk show cancellation rings out, another chat contender steps up to the plate: Queen Latifah, who hosted an eponymous talk show in 1999 for two seasons, is coming back in 2013 with another daytime offering. Since I'm not especially pleased with the current platter of new talk shows, this is both encouraging and harrowing. If Ricki Lake can't bring back the fire of her '90s hit, why should I expect Queen Latifah, whose new show will offer "celebrity interviews, human interest stories, and live performances," to be able to do the same?
But of course, the question of renewable vitality has always been central to Queen Latifah's presence in pop culture. The woman who once righteously thrilled and dominated rap with hits like "U.N.I.T.Y." has morphed into several other versions of bankable entertainer: She's been an actress (Oscar-nominated for Chicago), crooner (The Dana Owens Album), and CoverGirl spokesperson. All worthy endeavors. But does anyone else find themselves trying to reconcile the fact that a woman who once proclaimed individuality and self-possession is arguably now one of our most vanilla stars? Latifah has gone from releasing cool, distinct albums like Nature of a Sista' to starring in movies like Joyful Noise, which are pleasant enough but patently bland.
I understand I'm basing this skepticism on the fact that Queen Latifah has simply evolved from one version of an artist (the kind I prefer) to another (the kind that doesn't matter much to me), but I think it's harder to accept middle-of-the-road material from someone who once seemed to represent anything but the uninspired. When Sheryl Crow releases an inconsequential acoustic album, I'm less likely to question it because she's never been a standout proclaimer or a doggedly vivacious artist. When Queen Latifah does it, I wonder what's in it for her. Because when someone like her is determinedly palatable or mediocre, it feels like an apology for once being a renegade who used to value mattering over marketing.
Naturally, the rumors of her insisted-upon closet situation compound the matter, but I'll give Latifah this: She was very good in Lifetime's Steel Magnolias remake, and I enjoyed her guest spot on 30 Rock a couple seasons ago. She's just spent the past decade phoning in inoffensiveness in every possible conduit, and after you garner a certain amount of money, what's the point of it anymore? It's not a crime, but it's not exciting either. "Why?" strikes me as a relevant, obvious question.
Anyone else miss her raw power, that intrinsic Latifah element that I think we last glimpsed in Chicago? Actually, the last time Latifah said something with real bite was when she refused to discuss her personal life in public. The exact quote: "I don’t care if people think I’m gay or not. Assume whatever you want. You do it anyway." Feel the U.N.I.T.Y.?
