One of the biggest selling points of Still Bill, a loving portrait of soul icon Bill Withers, is that the filmmakers judiciously decided to let Withers, his family and friends do the talking.

Not a black cultural critic or music historian to pontificate on the man's achievements. Just Bill.

The film screens tonight at the Bloor Cinema.

"We wanted Bill's voice to be the viewer's way into his music, his childhood and family," says Damani Black, who made Still Bill with Alex Vlack.

"He gave us an incredible, once-in-a lifetime experience, and there was no need to add anything to someone who already knows how to say it just right."

Few know how to say it or sing it right like the man who penned classics like Ain't No Sunshine, Lovely Day, and Lean On Me. Credit that to Withers' warm voice, an honesty in his lyrics and lovely arrangements.

Withers enjoyed immense popularity in the '70s, but divorced himself from the industry after cutting what would be his last record, Watching You, Watching Me, in 1985.

In a rare interview that appeared in the Toronto Sun in 2003, Withers disclosed that one self-appointed tastemaker at CBS Records was responsible for souring his relationship with the music biz.

"There was a guy at CBS who came up with this brilliant idea," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "His idea was I should cover the Elvis Presley song In The Ghetto and my attitude was, 'Black people don't need to imitate Elvis Presley; Elvis imitates black people.'"

"I had a name for those guys at those record companies," he said. "I called them blaxperts. In other words, guys from the suburbs who were supposed to be experts on black music."

When I scored an interview with Withers six years back, I could hardly believe my luck. The man has a reputation for shunning the media and is uncomfortable talking about himself or his music.

Baker and Vlack discovered this, but it didn't faze them.

"It was close to impossible to get in touch with him," Vlack says. "He honestly doesn't look for people to be in touch with him. He's lived an incredible life and is content doing what he is doing now: Playing music, being a husband and a father. So, when two guys not even half his age decided they wanted to make a feature documentary on his music and life, he didn't make it easy for us at all."

Vlack said it took several years and dozens of e-mails before they hooked up with Withers. "Bill gave us the gift of a five-hour interview during our first shoot with him in his home," he says. "He was candid, revealing, and honest."

Adds Baker: "In that interview, we were introduced to Bill's amazing sense of humour. That day was a milestone for both of us. We'd never professionally experienced anything like it -- five hours of non-stop conversation on camera, no water, no bathroom breaks, just an amazing beginning to over three years of production!"

Both say Withers' mastery of the English language made a massive impact on them.

"His ability to take very personal ideas and create phrases that speak to your heart is why the world has responded to his music for almost 40 years."