Entertainment
Bert Kreischer shares his 'Lucky' secret to success in comedy. Hint: It has nothing to do with hard work
Luck is a religion for Bert Kreischer. Try sitting with him for more than a few minutes without it coming up in conversation — especially as it relates to comedy. Walking through the halls of his Sherman Oaks compound that houses Berty Boy Productions, he rattles off moments of good fortune in the careers of the world’s biggest comics like a sports stat guru who knows the game better than anyone else. Because, honestly, he does. And it’s not because he thinks he’s the funniest man to ever hold a microphone, though his shirtless razzle-dazzle and talent for hilarious, heartfelt storytelling has obviously created an empire. It’s because he is in a constant state of identifying the luck in his life, which he says is half the battle when it comes to success. No surprise then that “Lucky” is the name of his latest special premiering Tuesday on Netflix.
Recently The Times spoke with Kreischer about the value of luck over hard work, the smartest thing he did to retain audiences who stream his comedy and his desire to return to the fun and creativity he had in comedy before his career blew up.
In your special you once again come out onstage in all your shirtless glory — congrats on looking much more svelte these days.
Sadly I’m still morbidly to the obese. That’s the craziest thing about the body, the BMI scale. Have you ever looked at yourself will be on my scale? My first time I ever did it was a long time ago, on a podcast with Tom [Segura] and I were fat-shaming each other, and we were so morbidly obese. And even at my skinniest, I am still morbidly obese.
What is the key thing to help you stay motivated with physical fitness and staying healthy on tour or preparing for a special?
It’s gonna sound so stupid — but it’s partying. I only work out so I can party. I look at guys who party and don’t work out and that kind of bums me out, and I go, “Hey, man, not allowed to do that. That’s not the way it works.” Every dad I ever knew growing up, if they had beers, they were very active. Maybe they have drinks on a night and out, but in the morning they wake you up and go play basketball, or go fishing in the morning. My dad ran marathons. So I just, it got ingrained in me, if you’re gonna go out and have fun and party, then you’ve got to pay the tax in the morning. I’m still fat, and I work out really freaking hard — I just benched 325 pounds. But I’m still just doing it so I feel better about myself when I wake up in the morning and I’m like, “last night was a long night, but I’m gonna go work out.”
How has it been allowing those elements of your life to co-exist between partying, working hard with comedy, having a family, etc?
I got a canary in the mine, and that’s my wife [LeeAnn]. There’s been times where she’s been like, “a;l right, let’s pull it back.” Two years ago in July, she was like, “I think we’re gonna pump the brakes on this one.” And then I didn’t drink for like, three months, and I lost 55 pounds. But my wife’s the same person who, if I’m not drinking, and we’re in Italy, she’ll be like “Have a glass of wine. Don’t be a fool. We’re only in Venice once. It’s snowing, let’s have a drink. Have some champagne.” My wife won’t let me be a teetotaler and won’t let me be an alcoholic.
“I only work out so I can party,” Kreischer said. “I look at guys who party and don’t work out and that kind of bums me out, and I go, ‘Hey, man, not allowed to do that. That’s not the way it works.’”
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
You’ve got a lot of jokes about LeeAnn in this new special. When you write jokes about your wife, do you have to run them by her before you hit the stage?
No, I just write them. Because you gotta remember, I still just do stand-up the way I did it when I was a kid, where you just write the stuff and say it, and if it didn’t work with the audience, then you stop doing it. But if it works for the audience, then you’d figure out the tax on your family, and you’ll be like, are you guys cool with this? But you got to find out if it works first. So I just tried them all, and then she came and saw it a few times.
And there was a little bit of a process in this one, because I wrote the material on the road, and I told it so much, I was on such an aggressive tour, that I kind of lost the smile in it. And so that material specifically, if you can’t tell that I am joking, if you think that I’m mean, or if I lose the little, in her words, “the rascal” in it, then all of a sudden it’s mean jokes about women. But if you know that I’m a loving husband who adores his wife, then it’s OK. And [my wife], my producer, and my director were all like, “we just want to make sure we see the smile in it.” And so I think we, I know we achieved that in the special. My wife edited it, she edits all my specials top to bottom. I gotta be honest with you, I look at like the first five minutes, and then if I like the first five minutes, I watch the whole special. But the first five minutes is what I’m really specific about. Streaming is like grabbing their attention right away and saying “Don’t leave, don’t go anywhere. I know you have a million options. Don’t leave, don’t go anywhere.”
When it comes to retaining an audience, whether you’re touring or doing specials, has that changed a lot since you started comedy?
Oh, f— yes, you have no idea. There used to be a thing called a closer. A closer would be something you’d put at the end of your act because you were done, and then Netflix showed up. And now audiences decide your closer for you. If they were bored, they were done. And it turned out that the majority of specials only got about 30 minutes of viewing. One comic said to me, he goes, I actually can still tell my closer because no one watched the whole special, so I’m still using my closer on the road. And I had this great closer about zip lining with my wife, it was in [my special 2018 special] “Secret Time.” That’s like my favorite joke of my whole set. Why would I put it at 48 minutes and have it close out my special? Why wouldn’t I put it at 22 minutes, so that, if you’re telling me they’re only gonna watch 30 minutes, then I put it at 22 minutes and you just watch my closer. If you’ve just watched my closer, then you’re gonna watch the rest of the special.
We got the notes back from [my 2018 special] “Secret Time,” and Netflix was like “your rate of retention was through the roof! People that started your special, 95% of them watched the entire thing, and that had not never happened.” And literally, they brought us in for a meeting, and they’re like, “what did you do?” And I said, I talked to some comics who did specials here and no one watches their whole special. So I just put my closer at 22 minutes. Literally, Netflix said to me, “is it cool if we give your special to other comics?” And I was like, “yeah, tell them what I did.”
And so for this one, I had a really great joke that was like that. I think it’s the phone sex joke. That little chunk was really great. And it’s at four minutes and 20 seconds. And I’m like, nice, and I knew I had a closer that could go nowhere else but the end, a story about my dog that passed away. So I was like, “dude, that belongs at the end.”
That part was so emotional. Anyone who has ever had a pet can relate to that bit.
For that bit I think I was in Utah, I was in a place where men are men — it’s not like, not like L.A. or New York — they’re “men,” the country. They’re men who lift things, but don’t lift weights, like, just strong dudes. And I told the story about my dog and I saw dudes crying in the audience, and I was like, “well, that’s weird.” And then I got so much feedback [on social media]. They’re like, “Bert’s show is amazing. But that dog story, man that killed me, man it was hilarious, and we just put our dog down.” I just, that kind of stuff and stand-up, you know, some comics look for the edgiest stuff, or the stuff that like is gonna be clickbait. For me, I look for the stuff that kind of brings us together and makes us all feel the same or equally as good about our broken parts. And I just thought that was a good bit to include in the special.
Comedian Bert Kreischer. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
When you laugh at your own jokes it almost sounds like you’re crying — it’s like a specific type of laughter that makes every joke seem to hit harder.
What’s so funny is a long time ago at a meeting with William Shatner, he said to me, sitting on my couch like this, he goes, “Can you cry?” I said, “Yeah.” He said, “Can I see it?” I said, “Yeah.” So I started crying. And then I started giggling, because I was like, “I’m crying in front of William Shatner.” He’s like, “I love it. I love it.” If you ever cry, as a man, you go into the bathroom. because you don’t want anyone to see you. If you ever catch a reflection of you crying, you turn into your high school buddies real quick. You’re like, “what are you, a p—!” and when I cry, I giggle sometimes.
I’ve never met your daughters, but I feel like I have after watching this special — they sound hilarious in all of your stories about them. Do you see the comedian gene in them? Would you ever want them to move into the family business?
I don’t, because they’ve seen how the sausage is made. I mean, you gotta remember, everyone you see trending on Netflix, they call uncle — it’s different. But they also see how tough comedy can be on a person and as an occupation. So I don’t think they’d ever get into comedy. I wouldn’t even want it for them. My daughter’s best friend, Daisy, that’s who I want to make a comedian. She’s funny as s—, and she doesn’t know she’s funny. Me and Whitney [Cummings] wrote an act for Daisy on the road. I’m like, “Daisy, just try stand-up.” She goes, “it’s 20,000 people. People don’t do stand-up for the first time in front of 20,000 people!”
The title of the special “Lucky” feels self-explanatory given the life that you lead, at least the life people see. But what made you want to make that the name of your special?
I believe in luck more than I do hard work. I really sincerely do. I had a moment in my career where I had to be resigned to the fact that I may just be a journeyman comic, that I may just be a guy who always does shows at Funny Bones and Improvs. And I was cool with that. I was very cool with that. I may never make more than, you know, $5,000 on a weekend. … So I was resigned to the fact that I may never be the person everyone runs into the room to go watch do stand-up, I may not be the guy that gets specials. I may have to do a workaround. I may have to work a little different to get the fans that I need to make the living and to keep my family above board.
And then my Machine story went viral, and one of my best friends [Joe Rogan] happened to become the biggest media personality in the world, and my other best friend [Segura] decided we should start a podcast. Now, all of a sudden, my podcast is blowing up. That’s luck, man. Everyone works hard. But sometimes you get lucky. If you look at my life, I’m the luckiest motherf— you’ll ever meet. I also believe that if you identify the luck in your life, you just start feeling lucky. Those dudes who are like, “man, I can’t catch a break,” it’s just like, stop. Start thinking of all this is luck.
For you it seems the next step has been keeping all your success going. Obviously you have your wife’s help with all that. But do you think about how to carry that into the future and how you want to continue to grow your empire?
You know what’s so funny — no. I’m actually trying to think how to go backwards a little bit into more fun creative play. I got so overwhelmed in the media company landscape of brand deals and producing other people’s specials and producing other podcasts and building and trying to keep all the plates spinning, that part of me was missing. LeeAnn said this to me: “I miss the days when you would come up with a promo idea and we would shoot it as a family, and it was so fun.” And that is what I’m trying to get back to — that fun. The fun in the early part of comedy, the fun in creating stuff, the fun in making stuff. What’s the point of a media company if it’s not fun?
Comedian Bert Kreischer.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
By the end of the special, we’ve taken so many trips with you through your stories and your ups and downs. There’s an emotional core to this special that I don’t think I’ve seen in some of your previous work. What’s one thing you would want people to take away from this after watching it?
My one takeaway is sometimes with having a family, you’re so in the weeds of time that you can’t really enjoy the little stuff that one day you’ll laugh about. And I think that’s what my special is. It’s those things drive you nuts in the moment, those things where you act like an idiot in the moment with your family, and your wife’s pissed that you ordered 64 traffic cones, and she’s really upset because now she knows she has to return them. Try to enjoy those chaotic, hectic moments as a family, because you will be sharing them 20 years from now.
Movie Reviews
Movie Review: Travolta’s “Propeller: One-Way Night Coach” is One for the Ages — All Ages
Back in the good ol’days — the ’90s — John Travolta would love to get off the topic of “Michael,” “Pulp Fiction” or “Get Shorty” in interviews with film journalists like me and regale us with how utterly besotted he had been with his first flying experience, how that drove his passion for piloting and buying planes and airfield-adjacent luxury houses.
He didn’t even seem to mind having to move house when this or that development balked at him flying his Boeing 707 out of there on the way to locations.
Travolta would tell any journalist who asked that he was writing a kid-friendly book, “Propeller: One Way Night Coach,” based on his first flights as a child in old propeller driven airliners — cheap red-eye overnight treks with too many connections for your average jet age traveller to tolerate.
I remember picking up the book when it came out later in the ’90s — at an airport gift shop — and thinking “Well, that’s as cute as I figured.”
And now, decades later and trapped in the B-movie hell of his post “Gotti” career, Travolta’s turned that cute book into the most delightful, fanciful and colorful bon bon of a movie.
“One Way Night Coach” is a child’s fantasy of flight and flying the way it used to be — with pristine, uncrowded, futuristic airports, an early ’60s era of jets and prop planes with over-uniformed stewardesses in white gloves, the days “Back before every Joe Sweatsock could wedge himself behind a lunch tray and jet off to Raleigh-Durham,” as Sideshow Bob memorably sneered on “The Simpsons’.”
It’s a fictionalized account of Travolta’s childhood about an only child (at least two Travolta siblings have bit parts in this movie) of a never-made-it/never-will actress/single-mom (Kelly Eviston-Quinnett) who indulges her aviation-obsessed eight-year-old with a cheap cross-country overnight flight.
Little Jeff (Clark Shotwell) will revel in almost every Idlewild to Pittsburgh to Dayton to Chicago to Kansas City to Denver and Los Angeles minute. He strolls into the cockpit to meet pilots, charms the stewardesses and checks out the sleeping bunks on the TWA Lockheed Super Constellation, loving even the delays if not the Chicken Cordon Bleu he’s offered on legs of the journey that offer a meal.
And as he’s an observant child, he comments (Travolta narrates) on his 50ish mother’s vamping and posing, her choice of cigarettes (Newports) and drinks, the solo traveling men whose attention she pursues and earns.
“I was her best audience,” adult Jeff remembers of the mother who’d read him plays as bedtime stories and delusionally hopes that this trip to Los Angeles might be her “big break” even though she’s pushing 50.
“Hollywood called,” she’d explain about their overnight cheap flight arrangements to ticket agents and crew. “They told me to take the next flight!”
At every turn, Jeff meets or sees kindness — stewardesses who indulge his many questions and bump them up to first class on the mostly-empty planes, a captain who fixes his toy model of a Constellation, a mentally ill flyer who flips out but is calmed by a flight attendant who isn’t overworked and frazzled in jet-powered tin-can jammed with Joe and Jane Sweatsocks who think nothing of traveling in their pajamas.
Normally, I cringe at pictures this reliant on voice-over narration. I recoil from stars who populate their picture with Sandler etc. offspring. But “Propeller” is unfailingly sweet and never cloying.
Sure, it’s fictionalized. But if you’ve followed Travolta’s life and career, a lot of him is in this — his raptoruous engagement with flying, an indulged child who developed a taste for fine food and creature comforts, a mother who was his guiding star as an actor.
I get why there are less adoring reviews than mine floating around “Propeller.” It’s unfailingly sweet. Mom’s man-hunting is seriously dated. This TWA tale is decorated with Gershwin’s majestic “Rhapsody in Blue” — United Airlines’ signature tune. And Travolta’s been around long enough for recent generations to come up and not feel a connection to the “Saturday Night Fever/Get Shorty” star whose career has fallen off and life has been visited by too much tragedy.
But I’d hate to be seated next to anybody who doesn’t appreciate this adorable, pristine and nearly perfect aviation fantasy on any flight, much less an overnight one.
Rating: TV-PG
Cast: Clark Shotwell, Kelly Eviston-Quinnett, Ellen Travolta, Ella Beau Travolta, Olga Hoffmann and John Travolta.
Credits: Scripted and directed by John Travolta, based on his book. An Apple TV+ release.
Running time: 1:01
Entertainment
After ‘Barbie’ success, Mattel looks to He-Man for another box-office lift
Three years ago, Mattel Inc. struck box-office gold — or rather, pink — with the billion-dollar success of “Barbie.”
In its first return to theaters since the female-forward phenomenon, the El Segundo toymaker is turning to the brawny He-Man for another box-office lift.
Its latest film, “Masters of the Universe,” opens this weekend, as Mattel looks to build on that previous success and continue extending its signature toy brands into the entertainment arena.
“The movie is very much in tune with culture,” said Mattel Chief Executive Ynon Kreiz. “Everything is much more contemporary relative to what was created more than 40 years ago, but it’s still very true to the origin story and to the DNA of the brand.”
The new film arrives at a pivotal time for Mattel, which is facing pressure from investors to grow its business. The maker of Hot Wheels, American Girl and Uno has recently confronted a challenging market for toys, beset by tariffs on goods produced overseas and weaker-than-expected demand for Barbie dolls and Fisher-Price preschool products.
Amid uncertainty in the toy market and the fallout from tariffs, Mattel’s net income dropped 25% to $398 million in 2025. And since the company announced disappointing holiday sales totals in February, its stock has dropped more than 30%, closing at $14.34 on Wednesday.
“Masters of the Universe” toys at Mattel headquarters in El Segundo.
(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)
The share price slide prompted investor Southeastern Asset Management to send a letter last month to Mattel leadership suggesting the toy maker should sell itself and go private. Southeastern manages about 4% of the company’s stock on behalf of its clients.
“The frustration among investors has been the fact that if you look at the business from 2021 through 2025 and even this year … the business really hasn’t grown,” said Eric Handler, a Roth Capital senior media and entertainment analyst, referring to Mattel. “This is a company that needed something fresh in the portfolio, and there’s a wide range of investments being made, of which ‘Masters of the Universe’ is one part.”
Kreiz pushed back on the idea that the company is not growing. In the fourth quarter of 2025, net sales were up 7% to $1.8 billion, though the result was not as strong as the company expected.
Mattel has spent $1.2 billion in the last three years to buy back shares, with an additional $1.5-billion share repurchase planned for the next three years.
“We’re investing in our own stock because we believe it is undervalued,” he told The Times in an interview at his office, which has floor-to-ceiling windows that give an expansive view of El Segundo. “We absolutely agree that the share price doesn’t reflect the progress that we’ve achieved over the last few years financially, operationally, our place in culture, the strength of our brands, and the continued expansion of the business. And more importantly, the potential that we have down the road.”
“Masters of the Universe” is a key variable in that equation.
Ynon Kreiz, chief executive of Mattel.
(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)
The movie, which had a budget of roughly $170 million, is expected to bring in $25 million to $35 million in the U.S. and Canada during its debut weekend. That’s a far cry from the $162-million opening haul of “Barbie,” but box-office analysts say that film captured the cultural zeitgeist in a way that’s hard to replicate.
The ‘80s-era “Masters of the Universe” is “a property that was famous with a certain group of fans, but it hasn’t had much of a pop culture presence,” said Shawn Robbins, who directs movie analytics at Fandango and founded the forecasting site Box Office Theory. The movie has notched a respectable 74% approval rating from critics on aggregator Rotten Tomatoes.
“There’s been so many callbacks to nostalgic franchises,” he said. “Some people are always on board for them, and maybe the positive reviews bring people in who were on the fence. But people are also ready for something fresh and new and exciting.”
Kreiz said he’s often asked how the company will match the success of “Barbie.”
“The answer is, we don’t need to match ‘Barbie’s’ success for movies to have a meaningful economic impact on the company,” he said. “Not every movie will be ‘Barbie.’ If we create quality content that people want to watch and create quality experiences that people are engaged with, good things happen, and these brands will resonate and will be here for years to come.”
While theatrical revenue is important, the measure of success for “Masters of the Universe” could also include its eventual reception on streaming platforms and, of course, toy sales, analysts said.
There are hundreds of products tied to the movie, from collectible action figures of Nicholas Galitzine’s He-Man and Camila Mendes’ Teela, to branded Uno decks, Legos, clothing and skateboards.
Skeletor from “Masters of the Universe.”
(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)
“For us, it’s a huge win already,” said Robbie Brenner, president of Mattel Studios and chief content officer, who also served as a producer on the film. “We have reinvigorated and relaunched this brand that has been around for decades … and done it in a way with just the best-in-class toys. Obviously that’s our bread and butter. And then to have made an epic, incredible movie … is a huge win.”
While Mattel does not yet have sales totals for its “Masters of the Universe” toys, executives said during an earnings call in late April that product sales were “growing double digits” amid strong customer demand, particularly from adults.
When Kreiz was named CEO in 2018, he saw the potential for Mattel to expand beyond toys. In an entertainment landscape dominated by known franchises and intellectual property, the former TV and media executive wanted to leverage the company’s IP in new ways to attract consumers.
Hence, Mattel has expanded into real-world experiences such as a Barbie pop-up at Coachella or a traveling Hot Wheels monster truck show. In February, the company fully acquired Mattel163 mobile game studio after buying out a stake held by Chinese tech firm NetEase. The studio has released games based on Uno, Skip-Bo and other Mattel intellectual property.
And on the film and television front, the Mattel Studios division now has 51 people — most of whom are based in El Segundo — focused on projects across platforms.
After “Masters of the Universe,” Mattel Studios plans to release a “Matchbox” streaming movie in October. The division has more than a dozen films in development that have been announced, including an American Girl movie with Paramount, Polly Pocket with Amazon MGM Studios, as well as a live-action Magic 8 Ball series from M. Night Shyamalan.
“The journey for the company was to evolve from being a toy manufacturer that was making items to become an IP company that is managing franchises,” Kreiz said. “It’s not that we’re not creating toys — it’s obviously a big part of our business — but the opportunity is to expand so much more than the physical product.”
“Masters of the Universe” was in development for years at several different studios before it was picked up by Amazon MGM.
That partnership stemmed from Mattel’s work on the “Barbie” movie with Courtenay Valenti, then president of production and development at Warner Bros. Pictures who is now head of film at Amazon MGM.
“Masters of the Universe” felt like a good property for Mattel to bet on because of its nostalgia factor and deep bench of colorful characters, from the green tiger Battle Cat to the heavily armored Ram Man and ever meme-able Skeletor, which the company hopes will attract new audiences, Brenner said.
The movie is directed by Travis Knight — chief executive of stop-motion studio Laika who also led the 2018 “Transformers” spin-off “Bumblebee” — who Brenner said “nailed” the narrative’s tone. (It didn’t hurt that Knight was already a fan of the franchise and had sported the He-Man haircut as a child.)
“It’s a property that’s kind of out there,” said Brenner, who grew up watching He-Man and his twin sister She-Ra. “It’s got all these crazy characters. But just riding that line between what is funny and kind of irreverent and then kind of heartfelt, that is a very hard thing to put in a blender and to get right.”
Movie Reviews
Movie Review: Paul Rudd and Nick Jonas hit the right notes in ‘Power Ballad’
Let’s just say that the wedding band has never occupied the most exalted rung of the ladder in music.
Playing “September” and “Celebration” is often what’s most required. As one member of the Bride and the Groove, the band at the center of John Carney’s new film, puts it: They’re not rock stars. They’re human jukeboxes.
But in “Power Ballad,” a wedding band singer and pop star cross paths. For one night, all of the stratification of the music world falls away. “Power Ballad” starts like a fairy tale.
Since 2007’s “Once,” the Irish writer-director has focused his films on the redemptive capacity of music. Carney, who was once a bassist for the Frames, knows from experience. From “Sing Street” to “Flora and Son,” he has made unabashedly earnest tales where a song, or just picking up an instrument, changes lives.
This can, undoubtedly, lead Carney into sentimental territory. Lucky for him, his chosen subject — music — is more worthy of sentiment than almost anything else. Yet the song doesn’t quite remain the same in “Power Ballad,” a movie that begins with the gentle sweetness Carney is known for, but detours into something more discordant.
Rick (Paul Rudd) is an American musician who gave up on his once-promising rock band’s future to instead live with his wife (Marcella Plunkett) and teenage daughter (a spunky, underused Beth Fallon) in Dublin. His former group was called Octagon, a perfect former band name if there ever were one.
But for years, Rick has fronted the Bride and the Groove. It’s an unromantic day job (or rather a night one) that hasn’t entirely sapped his belief in his own songwriting. During an encore at one wedding, he plays an original tune and is mentally transported to an arena full of swaying fans. When he snaps out of it, he’s staring at an empty dance floor and faces that say: That wasn’t Kool & the Gang.
At another wedding at at a castle, the band is asked to let a friend of the newlyweds sit in. They reluctantly agree, and are surprised to see the very popular boy band veteran, Danny (Nick Jonas), step on stage. He sings Stevie Wonder’s “I Wish,” and it’s great. Though Rick had just dismissed Danny’s music as “manufactured content for young, excitable teens,” he discovers Danny is a genuine musician.
But, later that night, something even more remarkable transpires. Rick bumps into Danny, and the two quickly hit it off. They begin jamming together and sharing songs that need work. They are both so jazzed by their unlikely collaboration that they play into the next morning.
The actual moment of artistic creation, and the craft it requires, is something the movies almost always skip over. But capturing collaborative juices flowing is exactly what Carney excels at. You can feel his joy in it. So it’s fitting that one of the unfinished songs Rick plays for Danny, “How to Write a Song (Without You),” is about creative invention.
It’s here when you wonder where “Power Ballad” is headed. Is this, for Rick, the beginning of a beautiful friendship? Will they turn into the next great songwriting duo, lifting Rick out of weddings and proving to the world that Danny is more than a boy-band pretty face?
That is very possibly the movie Carney might have made a decade ago. But “Power Ballad,” which he co-wrote with Peter McDonald (who also co-stars as a band member), shifts six months ahead in time. Rick is standing in a shopping mall when the familiar lyrics of “How to Write a Song” softly float through the stores. He stands dumbfounded in the gleaming halls of commerce, a befuddlement that slowly turns into outrage the bigger and bigger Danny’s smash hit grows.
“Power Ballad” loses some of its steam in its second half, which follows Rick’s struggle for justice. Making things considerably harder is that he can find no recorded demo of the song. His family and his band don’t even really believe him.
But even as the movie struggles to sustain its opening refrain, Carney’s film is always riffing on ideas of authenticity and aspiration in music. That Jonas is, himself, a former boy band star who has at times gone it alone, lends the movie a direct connection to contemporary music, where tussles over authorship are increasingly common.
Jonas has been good in other films (notably the “Jumanji” movies), but this is his most ambitious and convincing performance to date. It’s a testament to the movie that Danny’s theft isn’t a purely villainous act. He gives the song a bridge and the vocal power to take it to another level. He’s under mounting pressure from his label to deliver a hit. An executive (Jack Reynor) wants “Danny 2.0” but has little faith he can supply it.
But it’s an even more well-tailored role for Rudd. He memorably and very goofily played a bassist in the 2009 comedy “I Love You, Man.” But while he sings well, it’s not his musical chops that lift the performance. It’s more that Rick, a contented family man with unrealized rock-star dreams, gives the exceptionally genial Rudd more notes to play as an actor. Rudd makes for a very likeable everyman out to convince the world he is capable of a beautiful song.
And that’s the abiding belief of Carney’s. No matter all the struggles, the artistic injustices, the corporate hegemony, he still believes that if you make something truly soulful, it will break through. It will claw its way to the surface, and move people. It’s undoubtedly gotten harder since “Once,” this movie seems to admit. The world is against you. But what one person can offer, a ballad or otherwise, still has power. Fairy tale or not, that’s worth believing in.
“Power Ballad,” a Lionsgate release in theaters Friday, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association for “language throughout and some drug use.” Running time: 108 minutes. Three stars out of four.
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Pennsylvania33 minutes agoHalf of child deaths left unreviewed in Pennsylvania since 2020 as counties struggle with ‘unfunded mandate’
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Rhode Island36 minutes agoHe grew up in the kitchen. Then he rewrote the menu, and the future of his parents’ restaurant – The Boston Globe