Zoe Saldana is in a no-win situation as the star of this cringe-inducing biopic of singer Nina Simone, which arrives dogged by reports of the actress sporting skin-darkening makeup and nose-widening prosthetics. But it’s not just the quasi-blackface that’s problematic (though it certainly doesn’t help, especially when the hue of Saldana’s face changes from scene to scene); writer-director Cynthia Mort seems entirely in over her head while attempting to flesh out this legendary, complicated, volatile artist.

The film opens in the 1940s with a snapshot of Simone’s staunchness even as a child, insisting she won’t play a classical piano recital for a white audience until her parents are allowed to be seated. But Mort allows for only a quick scroll through the headlines of Simone’s adult fame before we find her under sedation at a California mental hospital in the ’80s and then in self-imposed exile in France in the ’90s.

David Oyelowo (“Selma”) barely registers as Clifton, the down-to-earth nurse Simone enlists as her personal assistant and eventual manager. And Saldana, well, she does a passable impression of Simone’s husky speaking voice, throws a series of tantrums and sings quite well — though, of course, nothing like the inimitable icon she’s portraying. The whole endeavor seems like a bad idea badly executed, and one can only imagine that Simone, a fierce advocate of black pride and empowerment, would be aghast at this cheesy rendition of the later years of her life.