Entertainment
From Chris Isaak to Karen O, David Lynch's musical collaborators recount his strange, sonic mysticism
Back in 2013, David Lynch was in his home recording studio late one morning, surrounded by electric guitars of different shapes and colors. With effects pedals scattered at his feet, he opened a case with an orange sunburst lap-slide guitar inside. “This is the guitar that Ben Harper gave me,” Lynch said with a smile and genuine awe in his voice, dressed in a black suit jacket and shirt, gray hair piled high on top. “That thing makes a hell of a sound.”
The occasion was the coming release of his second solo album, “The Big Dream,” but it wasn’t the first or last time we talked about his music. He was a self-taught improviser on guitar, and a high school trumpeter, but he was drawn to any sounds that tapped meaningfully into feelings of heartache and tension, beauty and noise.
Over a half-century of work, he built a well-earned reputation as a surrealist auteur and master filmmaker. But Lynch, who died last week at 78, was equally passionate about other creative mediums, from painting and photography to designing furniture, and nothing held his imagination more powerfully than the music that filled his life and work.
We were in his fully equipped recording facility, called Asymmetrical Studio — built inside the house he once used as a location for his 1997 film “Lost Highway.” He spent a lot of his time there, and it was just one sign of his lifelong obsession with sound. It held an essential role in his life as a filmmaker and, eventually, a recording artist, songwriter and producer.
Angelo Badalamenti performs at the David Lynch Foundation Music Celebration at the Theatre at Ace Hotel in 2015.
(Chris Pizzello / Invision / AP)
Lynch was a rare director with a recognizable musical aesthetic, created with the help of composer and close friend Angelo Badalamenti, among many others. He was attracted to smoky electric guitar twang and the most abrasive industrial sounds, and to rich female voices and lush layers of strings and organ. The through-line were sounds that leaned toward the smoldering and idiosyncratic — from his use of achingly passionate songs of heartbreak by Roy Orbison and Chris Isaak to his own shadowy recordings with modern torch singers Julee Cruise and Chrystabell.
Among his musical collaborators was Karen O, singer for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, who appeared on his first solo album, 2011’s “Crazy Clown Time,” and remembers Lynch’s sound as tense and passionate. “There’s an eroticism, there’s an urgency, there’s mystery, there’s darkness, there’s the edginess, the rebellion,” she says. “All that is in David’s musical taste.”
They recorded an ominous, twangy, thunderous tune called “Pinky’s Dream,” featuring a breathless Karen O vocal. “I’ve never met a Pinky,” she says now with a laugh. “It’s a character that inhabits a David Lynch dreamscape. The music is chugging along and you just feel like you’re on one of those lost highways.”
“I guess I like it low and slow, but I also like so many kinds of music,” Lynch told me during a 2015 visit to the painting studio behind his home high up in the Hollywood Hills. “I love what sound can do, what music can do, and to marry to the picture and make the whole thing greater than the sum of the parts.”
As a director, he showed a gift for placing music with stunning impact, from Samuel Barber’s deeply emotional “Adagio For Strings” in 1980’s “The Elephant Man,” to the raging thrash metal riffs of Powermad in 1990’s “Wild at Heart,” and Rebekah Del Rio’s torrid Spanish a cappella reading of “Llorando” in “Mulholland Drive.”
In “Blue Velvet,” Lynch created an eerie moment of romance and nostalgia in an otherwise disturbing scene as actor Dean Stockwell, in paisley tuxedo jacket, lip-syncs Orbison’s 1963 hit “In Dreams.” The song’s use in the film helped spark an Orbison revival, and Lynch soon co-produced a new version of the song with the singer and T-Bone Burnett for a 1987 retrospective, “In Dreams: The Greatest Hits.”
That love of music ultimately led the director to begin dabbling in creating some of his own, starting with his distinctive collaborations with Badalamenti, which stretched from “Blue Velvet” in 1986 until the composer’s death in 2022. It was an especially close relationship between director and composer that Nick Rhodes of Duran Duran compares to Federico Fellini and Nino Rota, who scored all of the Italian filmmaker’s films from 1959 to 1979.
Likewise, Lynch and Badalamenti were “so closely linked that they almost can feel each other’s heartbeats,” says Rhodes, whose band of hitmakers also worked with Lynch on a few occasions, including his remixing two of their songs.
“I always say Angelo Badalamenti brought me into the world of music,” Lynch said. “I played the trumpet when I was young and I understand music, but I was in love with sound effects. So I wanted to build a studio to experiment with sound, but I knew I wasn’t a musician really. Angelo said, ‘David, I need lyrics.’ So I started writing lyrics for Angelo, and we worked together. And that was a combo — the David Lynch and Angelo Badalamenti combo, and it brought out those things. That gave me more confidence.”
By the late 1980s, that impulse led the duo to Excalibur Sound Productions in New York City, where they worked on music with a young unknown singer, Julee Cruise, who had recorded their song “Mysteries of Love” for “Blue Velvet.” An album, 1989’s “Floating into the Night,” emerged after a year and a half of sessions, launching the single “Falling,” which had a second life as a theme for “Twin Peaks.”
In 2017, as the acclaimed third-season revival of “Twin Peaks” unfolded on Showtime, Cruise recalled to me the original directions from Lynch during her sessions. “He said, ‘Julee, you are a child full of wonder,’” said Cruise, who also performed the dreamy, mournful “The World Spins” on the series.
Julee Cruise sings the show’s theme song, “Falling,” in the pilot episode of “Twin Peaks.”
(CBS Photo Archive / Getty Images)
“I will always be known as this, and I will always be proud of this,” said Cruise, who died in 2022. Lynch also directed a one-hour musical film starring Cruise, “Industrial Symphony No. 1,” released in 1990 by Warner Bros. Records.
In subsequent years, Badalamenti was based in New Jersey, and made occasional trips to L.A. “Wherever we were, we would sit and make music,” Lynch said. Last year, the director expressed lasting sadness over the 2022 death of Badalamenti, who he called “my brother.”
“It just doesn’t seem possible that he’s gone,” Lynch said. “It just seems like I could call him up and we could make music again.”
In time, Lynch created multiple workspaces adjacent to his home in the Hollywood Hills: the recording studio, painting studio, wood shop and offices. He performed music live only one time, with his band Blue Bob in 2002, an experience he called “a traumatic thrill,” and something he wasn’t anxious to repeat.
“He wasn’t a musician. He couldn’t tell you, ‘I want an E minor here, and then I want to have eight bars of this,’” says Isaak, whose “Wicked Game” became a hit after appearing in 1990’s “Wild at Heart.” “We didn’t talk in that language.” Lynch went on to direct the music video for “Wicked Game.”
Aside from creating music alongside Lynch, Isaak appeared on camera in a prominent role in “Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me.” “I sure got lucky for how the stars aligned, that I got to work with him and hang with him and get to know him a little. I must have somebody up there looking over me because what a treat.”
Lynch was a filmmaker who treasured music enough to turn the Roadhouse bar in the 2017 season of “Twin Peaks” into a world-class nightclub, and included performances of complete songs in many episodes from the likes of Moby, Eddie Vedder and “The” Nine Inch Nails. In 1997, he’d recruited NIN’s Trent Reznor to create a soundscape for “Lost Highway,” and together they landed on the cover of Rolling Stone. (Lynch would later create a music video for NIN’s “Come Back Haunted.”)
Trent Reznor arrives at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony in 2019.
(Evan Agostini / Invision / AP)
Some collaborations were less expected but just as rewarding. In 2011, Duran Duran asked Lynch to direct the livestream of a concert from the Mayan Theater in Los Angeles, as part of the American Express “Unstaged” series that matched musicians with filmmakers. The result was fully in character, photographed in murky black-and-white for a worldwide online audience, and layered with Lynchian imagery and juxtapositions: smoke, fire, strange objects and dead animals superimposed over the band.
“When something magical like that happens, you embrace it as quickly as you can,” says Duran Duran’s Rhodes. “I just love his vision and the world that he creates. I knew that merging with Duran Duran would be something mad, something surreal and beautiful and extraordinary that nobody would’ve ever expected. I felt that he had the same intention with what he was making with us. It was an absolute joy.”
For several years, Lynch harnessed his musical connections to raise funds and awareness for the David Lynch Foundation, established to promote the benefits of Transcendental Meditation. He hosted a series of music and art events on both coasts, including his popular Festival of Disruption, and a 2009 benefit concert with former Beatles Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr at Radio City Music Hall.
On his next solo album, 2013’s “The Big Dream,” he recruited Swedish singer-songwriter Lykke Li soon after she relocated to Los Angeles. He handed her a coffee-stained note with a few lyrics jotted down and said, “Make this into a song.” She accepted Lynch’s note as “a clue, a puzzle, a question” toward something new. She recast his words “I’m waiting here” as the title of the aching bonus track “I’m Waiting Here.” Recording the track was unlike a normal session.
“I’ve never done that again with anyone else,” Lykke Li says now. “He stood next to me and it was almost like he directed me how to sing. It was almost like a seance. It was really based on feeling and intuition.”
Lykke Li also notes that Lynch “saved my life,” by introducing her then to Transcendental Meditation at a time when things were fast-moving and chaotic in her life. “It was like only when I started meditating that I really found a center and it’s unlocked everything for me,” she says.
A David Lynch photo of himself with singer Chrystabell, with whom he collaborated on his final musical project.
(David Lynch)
The final project Lynch finished and released before his death was “Cellophane Memories,” a collaboration with Chrystabell, recorded at his home in 2023 and 2024. Unlike the songs of romance from their previous work together, the record was marked by an experimental layering of vocals and other effects that eased it deeper into the avant-garde.
“We were both doing what we love to do, which is to experiment and to create,” Chrystabell says now, days after Lynch’s passing. “His mind was always alive, always inspired. There were always things brewing.”
Along the way, the duo recorded several other songs in different modes, including an unfinished project that was to be called “Strange Darling.” But the filmmaker-painter-musician was already looking to their next round of songs together.
“David loved a great pop song,” the singer recalls. “That was the next thing we were going to do. He was like, ‘Chrystabell, should we write some hits next time?’”
Instead, Lynch’s musical friends and collaborators have been in mourning this week, grateful for their moments together, diving back into the work he left. Chrystabell says she has dealt with her close friend’s death by listening to music left behind.
“So much of our music is really tailor-made for these moments,” she says, recalling Lynch lyrics like “the great unknown,” “angel star” and “10 trillion miles of dark.” “He was right there, and we explored that territory. Lyrics could be cute and fun backseat kind of sexy or cosmic, otherworldly, spiritual, almost hymnal music. I was marveling at that. It all hits different 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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