“They want to hear you sing,” says the Rev. C.L. Franklin (played by actor Forest Whitaker) to his 10- year-old daughter, Aretha (played by Skye Dakota Turner).

And she did—eventually singing herself into 25 Grammys, a posthumously awarded Pulitzer Prize Special Citation and the history books.

How Ms. Franklin became the “Queen of Soul” and loved by millions is the subject of “Respect,” a fairly detailed and very entertaining biopic that charts her rise from childhood to 1972 and her making of the classic, live-recorded album, “Amazing Grace.”

This film, which opens in theaters on Friday, Aug. 13, stars Jennifer Hudson, the singer who was hand-picked by Ms. Franklin to play her.

Like a queen anointing a princess, Ms. Franklin said, “I’ve made my decision, and it is you, young lady, who I want to play me.” That endorsement makes this film the quintessential Franklin biodrama and any others, not so much.

Detroit, 1952, and 10-year-old Aretha is a precocious musical prodigy lauded by her dad, loved by her grandmother (played by Kimberly Scott, “The Abyss”) and envied by her siblings. Years later as a young adult in the 1960s, Ms. Franklin tours churches with her father who watches her like a hawk, warding off suitors. Rev. Franklin helps his daughter land a record- ing contract with Columbia Records in 1960, and Ms. Franklin releases jazz/pop-orientated albums to little success. When she hooks up with hustler-turned-manager Ted White (played by Marlon Wayans), Rev. Franklin is peeved: “You are not leaving this family for that piece of trash!”

Yet this is when Aretha finds her stride. She develops her own brand of soul music, which starts with the gospel/blues tinged, “I Never Loved a Man,” recorded with the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Band on Atlantic records in 1967. The rest is soul music history.

Director Liesl Tommy and the film’s producers made a smart decision when they had the entire cast sing live. It’s a strategy that worked wonders for “Les Misérables,” and that directive gives the performances and recreated recording sessions an authenticity that enhances the artistry.

Mr. Whitaker, Ms. Hudson, young Skye and Audra MacDonald as the mother belt out songs. Titus Burgess as the Rev. James Cleveland, Ms. Franklin’s musical mentor; Saycon Sengbloh as the adult sister, Erma; Hailey Kilgore as sister, Carolyn; and Brenda Nicole Moorer as Brenda harmonize well. Their voices are heavenly, making the songs feel richer.

Classics like “Dr. Feelgood,” “Think,” “Ain’t No Way,” “Chain of Fools” and “Sweet Sweet Baby (Since You’ve Been Gone)” resonate so much the music carries the film over any rough spots.

The script, by playwright-turned-screenwriter Tracey Scott Wilson, doesn’t miss much in the star’s formative years—Ms. Franklin’s often strained relationship with her domineering dad, tween and teenage pregnancies, Mr. White’s notorious spousal abuse and the singer’s bouts with alcoholism. The latter two plot points provide some of the film’s highest drama, moments when Ms. Franklin was scared for her life, humiliated in public and facing inner demons that put her on a path of self-destruction.

That human frailty is balanced by the exhilarating moments (recording her first hit), shows of courage (civil rights activism with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and supporting activist Angela Davis) and creative breakthroughs (watching the scenes where she arranges songs with the band is magic).

The characters, large and small, are well drawn with depth and dimension. The dialogue floats safely above a soap opera-ish feel. Mom to her daughter: “Your daddy does not own your voice.”

For two hours and 25 minutes, tight editing (Avril Beukes, “Queen Sugar”), a constant influx of historical moments, rousing concert performances, interactions with famous people (Dinah Washington played by Mary J. Blige, Clara Ward by Heather Headley and Smokey Robinson by Lodric D. Collins) and Ms. Franklin’s life journey will keep you entranced.

The production design (Ina Mayhew, “Queen Sugar”) aptly recreates the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s. The eye-catching clothes (Clint Ramos, “Lingua Franca”) suit the characters and the times. Their only imperfection is that they often look too new, not lived in.

Most of the ensemble performances are strong, with Ms. Hudson as the anchor and her singing as her strongest asset. While her acting cannot match that of a trained thespian (Viola Davis, Angela Basset) and her accent seems to waver at times, she does convey the emotional trauma the star experienced in some very impressive scenes. Her interpretation of Ms. Franklin, when she sings, mimics her walk and gestures and displays that bad-ass attitude, captures the aura just right. Scenes in which Ms. Hudson wears an Afro wig and revels in her militant “Young, Gifted and Black” phase are the ones when she looks most like Ms. Franklin.

Mr. Whitaker as the overbearing father who tests his daughter is appropriately irascible. Everyone who plays the sisters, young and old, sings and acts well. Marc Maron as the legendary record producer Jerry Wexler is sufficiently animated while Mr. Burgess, as the musical director Rev. Cleveland, shows just the right sensibility as Ms. Franklin’s emotional foundation.

If there is a weak link, it is Mr. Wayans as the troubled and abusive husband, Mr. White. His performance is tepid and shallow. A real pro, like the late Chadwick Boseman, would have taken this opportunity to turn Mr. White, a pivotal character, into a memorable, menacing persona. Mr. Wayans does not.

What’s on view is so fascinating and the storyline so involving and consequential that when the film ends at Ms. Franklin’s famous church concert, you wish there was more. This is where a traditional theatrical film format is lacking. The “Queen of Soul” had a life so rich and long it could fill a miniseries and still not touch all the breakthroughs, influential moments and endearing times that made her such an icon.

Still, her legacy has been captured in her records, a bio book “Respect: The Life of Aretha Franklin” and now in a film that captures her essence and dispenses it through the vocal pipes and the acting prowess of the one woman Ms. Franklin herself deemed worthy of telling her story.

The entire production is reverential, but Ms. Hudson should be particularly proud. She has done her job. She should take a bow. The “Queen of Soul” knew what she was doing.

To watch the trailer, go to https://www. youtube.com/watch?v=qTtxoz3OIlU