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Column: Fire is part of L.A.'s ethos. But this Angeleno is asking, 'Is it time to go?'

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Column: Fire is part of L.A.'s ethos. But this Angeleno is asking, 'Is it time to go?'

“Is it time to go?”

That’s the question my husband and I have been asking ourselves with traumatic regularity over the past seven days. As we watched the Eaton fire erupt in nearby Altadena, we wondered. When we got the evacuation warning alert, we answered: We packed the car, took a few additional minutes to scoop up some photo albums and left.

After the warning and nearby mandatory evacuations were lifted in our area on Saturday, we returned home. Our power went out on Sunday and when neighbors received texts saying it would be out until Wednesday, we asked the question again — we hadn’t bothered to unpack the cars. Then the lights went on and we figured we’d stay. On Monday, we woke again to high winds and a “particularly dangerous situation” alert from the National Weather Service.

Compared with thousands of people living in the Los Angeles area, we are incredibly lucky. And we feel that. But we’re also exhausted and, with the winds blowing hard even as I write, on edge. Now the question has become bigger and more demanding.

Is it time to go … forever? To leave, if not California then the foothills, which we have called home for 21 years?

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A year or two after I moved to L.A. the Old Topanga fire of 1993 swept through Malibu, creating scenes of desperate escape and destruction similar to, if more limited than, those we’ve seen from Altadena and the Palisades. I remember at the time people darkly joking that “Malibu” was a Native American term for “Do not live here.”

Altadena also burned that year, once in a brush fire that killed two firefighters, again in a wildfire that destroyed or damaged 40 homes. But it was after Old Topanga that revered California writer, activist and historian Mike Davis wrote his famous essay, “The Case for Letting Malibu Burn,” in which he argued, among other things, that Los Angeles had already paid too high a price for allowing rich people seeking seclusion, beauty and exclusivity to build in places historically prone to fire.

Now I look at the mountains that rear up around my community of La Crescenta, beautiful hills that, depending on the time of year and amount of rainfall, can make you feel like you’re in Ireland or Scotland. And I wonder: Should we be living here?

Just two years ago, they were covered with snow; a few weeks ago, fog crept down, as it often does. On Sunday, while the Eaton fires still raged, they sat serene and seemingly untouchable against a bright blue sky, the air so clear you would never know a horrific fire continued to burn just miles away.

But I know it’s a mirage. The winds can change that in a hour; an arsonist or accidental spark in less than a minute. During the 2009 Station fire, flames were visible on the hills as we evacuated. At more than 160,000 acres, it remains the largest wildfire in Los Angeles County history, claiming the lives of two firefighters and destroying 89 homes.

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The January 2025 fires will be remembered for far more widespread destruction of property. With at least 25 people dead and 12,000 structures destroyed, the Eaton and Palisades fires are among the worst in modern history — and they are still burning.

Angelenos take pride in their resilience. For many, fires (like floods or earthquakes) are the price one pays for living in paradise.

But with climate change forcing Southern California into a maddening cycle of deluge and drought, people are beginning to question the wisdom of building, or rebuilding, communities that edge up to the more wilder areas of L.A.’s varied topography. Davis’ essay is once again being quoted, directly and in subtext, as officials, experts, historians and randos on Reddit discuss the sustainability of Southern Californians living so close to hills and mountains where fire regularly breaks out.

Davis wasn’t talking about Altadena, or the foothills, where fire has been far more rare than in Topanga and Malibu. But still, if I step out of my house, I can see hills covered with dried-out brush and the tops of power stations. And I wonder.

Not that we live in an urban wilderness. We live in what is known as a developed tract, dominated by the wide streets and cheek-by-jowl midcentury homes designed by Webster Wiley. There are street lights and sidewalks; a park and a half-dozen schools lie within walking distance.

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Neither did we come seeking privacy, exclusivity or even beauty, at least of the wild sort. We bought here because of the fine school district, the ease of commute to The Times, which was then downtown, and the general affordability. Down the hill in Montrose, Honolulu Boulevard is such a lively and classic small-town main street that it shows up in countless TV series and films.

Yes, as we drive up the streets that lead to our home, we dip under bowers of California oaks, see deer, bobcats and the occasional bear, but as in Altadena, there’s nothing exclusive about this part of the world and we still felt part of the metropolis; on a clear day, you can see most of downtown.

My husband and I love our home, where we have experienced most of our marriage and raised our three children. Watching as people, including friends and colleagues, post pictures of the smoldering ruins of equally beloved homes, our hearts break. But they also fill with fear. It could so easily be us. Next time, or even this time.

A house is just a house, compared with human lives. But our house is the only thing of real value that we own. (Mostly; there is still a mortgage.) It is what allowed my husband to (finally) retire at 72 and, barring some unexpected windfall, it is the only inheritance our children will have. We have fire insurance, for now, though given the recent history of that industry, our premiums could be raised to unsustainable levels or our coverage dropped altogether. And then what?

If we are fortunate and the house continues to survive this interminable fire season, we could comfort ourselves with the uniqueness of these ghastly circumstances — the 85-plus-mph “mountain wave” winds, the heavy rains in early spring followed by unusual dryness. This is not Malibu, after all. How often could such a horrific confluence of events occur?

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Too often in recent years and no doubt more often in the future. Climate change is real and it is flooding, burning, battering and desiccating California, the country and the world on a daily basis. And not just in places prone to catastrophe.

Scientists warn, too many politicians ignore and the rest of us are forced to evacuate, to mourn friends and family, to gape at the wreckage of where we once lived.

I have railed, and will continue to rail, against those who refuse to quickly and resolutely address the environmental issues that threaten all life on this planet. But right now, as I check in with The Times’ excellent fire coverage and regularly tap into Watch Duty to see if the Eaton fire is on the move again, my husband and I look up at the hills and ask each other: “Is it time to go?”

Are the mountains that have delighted and inspired us for so many years now a threat? Will the eucalyptus in the corner of our yard be our undoing? Or the pine trees that tower around our neighborhood?

We have already gotten rid of our lawn, put in gravel and succulents, taken down two trees that had grown uncomfortably close to our house. But we still have roses and lavender, jasmine and ivy. We felt we had to plant two smaller trees to replace the ones we killed. Now they’ve grown and their drying leaves rattle in the wind. Was that a mistake? Is being here at all a miscalculation?

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We are exhausted, we are anxious and the Santa Anas are blowing, which can shred reasonable thought even without extreme fire risk. With so many in real crisis, it’s hardly the time for the existential variety. There are thousands in critical need; contemplating what could happen is a luxury when so many must cope with what already has.

Nevertheless, the city, county and state will have to face tough questions and make hard choices once the fires are out. How do we prevent such a catastrophe from happening again? Can we?

Homes, businesses and lives will be rebuilt, but how and where?

Our car remains packed as we squint out at the hills. For now, we can only pray and await further instruction.

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Movie Reviews

Movie Review: Travolta’s “Propeller: One-Way Night Coach” is One for the Ages — All Ages

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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.

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“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.

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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.

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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

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About Roger Moore

Movie Critic, formerly with McClatchy-Tribune News Service, Orlando Sentinel, published in Spin Magazine, The World and now published here, Orlando Magazine, Autoweek Magazine

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After ‘Barbie’ success, Mattel looks to He-Man for another box-office lift

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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.

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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.

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“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.

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Ynon Kreiz, chief executive of Mattel.

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.”

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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."

Skeletor from “Masters of the Universe.”

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

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“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.

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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.

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“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.”

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Movie Review: Paul Rudd and Nick Jonas hit the right notes in ‘Power Ballad’

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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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