POWER BALLAD (B+) - John Carney's run of solid music-themed films continues. The writer-director who splashed with "Once" in 2007 is now two decades into a career defined by strong characterizations and heartfelt underdog stories.
Here he is blessed with Paul Rudd, admirably slumming as a foundering wedding-band singer in Ireland (don't ask) whose song is stolen by a former boy-band poseur and turned into a mega-hit. It's a thoughtful exploration of the vagaries that decide the difference between journeyman and superstar status.
Rudd plays a middle-aged shlub, the conveniently named Rick Power, who happens into a late night of one-on-one jamming with superstar Danny Wilson (a serviceable Nick Jonas), who is under pressure to come up with a hit single and snap a losing streak. He later helps himself to the core of Rick's "How to Write a Song," which he adds a bridge to and produces a smash that revives his career. The rest of the film finds Rick trying to convince the world, but mainly his wife and daughter, that he actually wrote the song -- if only he could find definitive proof in his cluttered music archives.
Carney sold this shtick two years ago when he wove another fairytale, "Flora & Son," about a mom who takes online guitar lessons and bonds with her hip-hop-loving son in the process. That movie, and 2016's "Sing Street," build on Carney's belief in the healing powers of pop music, especially earnest, yearning ballads. The beauty of "Power Ballad" is that a lot of it tracks as plausible and believable. Rudd has that knack of embodying the Everyman spirit (as Eve Hewson did as Flora), and he gives it all -- including singing some classic pop songs (presumably with a big assist from AutoTune). He is a working-class guy fighting not just to lay claim to a potential fortune he is owed, but also to stand up for the craftsmen everywhere who believe in their creative talents.
The central scene in the movie is between Rick and Danny during their alcohol-fueled noodling workshop, and you can appreciate Carney's dogged attention to authenticity regarding the songwriting process. (He wrote the songs for Rick's character in collaboration with Gary Clark, whose claim to fame is the song "Mary's Prayer.") He also gets the vibe right during the wedding scenes, where guests revel in the painfully familiar hooks of the classic-pop era -- which can wear on a musical artist craving authenticity and even a little novelty. And he also nails the fragile camaraderie of local Irish session players riding the coattails of the oddball Yankee who fronts their part-time gigs. There's even a touching callback to "Once," with perfectly calibrated bookending scenes of Rick interacting with a street busker.
"Power Ballad" is funny at times, touching at times, and solidly written to carry you through Rick's narrative arc. Rudd pulls off the role of obscure rock purist, rocking a shaggy Lindsey Buckingham hairstyle and showing command of a guitar and a vocal turn. He gets an assist from solid cast of character actors, including Peter McDonald ("The Batman" and who co-wrote this script) as a guitarist willing to serve as the ultimate wing-man. Carney knows how to whittle this down to a tidy 98 minutes in the most entertaining of ways.
YOU HAD TO BE THERE (B-minus) - This good-natured documentary -- about the notable cast of the Toronto production of the quirky musical "Godspell" in 1972 -- overstays its welcome, even though the amiable stars, some of whom went on to fame with "Saturday Night Live" and "Second City Television," are at their charming best.
The film stumbles out of the gate by overplaying its hand and comparing the original stage cast to a powerhouse lineup akin to the storied 1927 New York Yankees. Granted, Martin Short and Eugene Levy have had solid careers, but neither they nor their co-stars qualify as legendary performers or A-list celebrities. Don't get me wrong, I've recently been rewatching the debut season of "SCTV" on Netflix, and I love Short, Levy, Andrea Martin, and Dave Thomas (as The Beaver), and their 1972 co-star Gilda Radner certainly is an all-timer, but don't tell me that their young, eager troupe rivaled the Beatles on the "Ed Sullivan Show," even if you throw in character actor Victor Garber (TV's "Alias") and bandleader Paul Shaffer ("SNL," "Letterman").
All that aside, there is a great deal of charm in this very Canadian film production, notably from good-guy Short, whose own home recordings as a teen and his surreptitious taping of one night's performance of "Godspell" serve as the archival foundation for the rollicking narrative. Journeyman director Nick Davis shows little creativity in cycling through his affable talking heads, and he relies too heavily on amateurish animated re-enactments, which seem intentionally drawn in a crude manner meant to evoke the cheesy cartoons of the era, such as "Josie & the Pussycats" and "Scooby-Doo." He also includes random celebrities to gush about the cast, even though they have no real connection to Toronto in 1972; I was scratching my head over the appearances of Lin-Manuel Miranda, Janeane Garafolo, Mike Myers (at least he's a local) and a couple of recent B-listers from the "SNL" cast (Heidi Gardner, James Austin Johnson), which must have been some sort of sop to Canadian godfather Lorne Michaels (who does not appear).
The actual former cast members (except for the late Radner, of course) still exude god-given comedy chops, including the more obscure members like Jayne Eastwood, a funny woman who has a good run in movies and television. The film crashes around the 80-minute mark though -- when it should be wrapping up but goes on for 20 more minutes. We get a story out of left field from one of the women in the original cast (Avril Chown), who reveals for the first time that, after getting her big break in television after "Godspell," was repeatedly sexually assaulted while a repertory member of the Saturday morning "Hudson Brothers Razzle Dazzle Show." Then there is an extended coda involving a reunion of the surviving cast members at one of those parties where they act like they don't hate or envy any of the others; reminisce incessantly; and sadly re-create their old show tunes. It's cute but unnecessary.
If you have no clue about most of the cast members listed above -- Andrea Martin, who starred in the "Big Fat Greek Wedding" franchise, is brilliant but not exactly a household name -- then this is probably not for you. If you have a soft spot for character actors like Victor Garber (the only Toronto cast member to make the cut for the 1973 movie adaptation) and are not by now tired of the ubiquitous Short (who just got the Netflix treatment) and Levy, then you probably will appreciate this valentine to a quaint era in entertainment. These folks weren't the Murderer's Row of comedy; rather, they are the plucky underdogs, the scrappy Pittsburgh Pirates seeking to upset the '27 Yankees.
BONUS TRACKS
The set-list of cover songs for Rudd and the boys goes beyond obvious choices like "Celebration" and is occasionally quite inspired, such as Stevie Wonder's "I Wish," which is marking its 50th anniversary this year. It opens with that indelible walking synth-bass line:
One interlude in "Power Ballad" is scored to the Ink Spots' "The Best Things in Life Are Free":
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