Given the movie-friendly trajectory of Whitney Houston’s life and career (stellar rise; glittering success; tragic fall: check!), the main surprise is that it took as long as it did for her to end up as fodder for the always-hungry music biopic industry. What’s no surprise at all, unfortunately, is that this doggedly formulaic picture struggles to capture even a fraction of the electrifying sparkle of Houston at the peak of her powers. As music mogul Clive Davis (Stanley Tucci) says, having just had his comb-over blasted several feet off his balding pate by the young Whitney’s vocal range, hers was a once-in-a-generation voice.

Not surprisingly, it’s predominantly Houston’s voice we hear in the film, with British actor Naomi Ackie lip-syncing pretty convincingly in the central role. But Houston was more than just that incredible voice. Her stage presence, her style, her winning charisma: it all combined into something unique. Something that Ackie only sporadically captures.

It should be stressed that the problem doesn’t lie with Ackie necessarily, but rather with a leaden, by-numbers screenplay from Anthony McCarten, who brings to this film the same box-ticking approach he employed with Freddie Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody. And director Kasi Lemmons seems content to skim through the early part of Houston’s journey in a flighty, extended montage, only slowing down to dig into the story once the addiction has kicked in, the marriage is imploding and Houston’s downfall is under way.

This slightly salacious fascination with the fall from glory is something that I Wanna Dance With Somebody shares with numerous other music biopics. But unlike Walk the Line, say, or Ray, there is no redemptive arc to soften the blow. At the film’s conclusion, Lemmons refrains from showing Houston’s death (although there are a few too many pointed shots of dripping bath taps), instead opting for a flashback to a high point in the singer’s career. It’s a powerful device, but one that doesn’t feel entirely sincere.