“Power Ballad” is a cynical, sloppy comedy about a wedding singer (Paul Rudd) and a pop titan (Nick Jonas) who drunkenly tinker with an unfinished song, then squabble over who gets custody when it becomes a hit.

Disharmony is a new chord for filmmaker John Carney, who has specialized in films about collaboration since his 2007 art house hit “Once.” From the snotty ’80s synth music of “Sing Street” to the acoustic heartbreak of “Begin Again,” Carney loves to hear how a rough idea evolves into a polished track. Lately, he’s been trying to find new approaches to his formula. His 2023 “Flora and Son” was about a surly single mother who picks up a guitar and discovers that her life doesn’t change that much. I loved that one because it said we’re all entitled to noodle without having to make much fuss about it.

The problem with “Power Ballad” is that it’s all rough ideas itself. Like an album that kicks off with its single, it starts with a jazzy sequence of song creation that’s one of the best versions of the scene Carney has ever done. A faded teen icon, Danny (Jonas, gamely sending up his history as one of the platinum-selling Jonas Brothers), explains how to write a PG-rated hit to Paul Rudd’s cover band frontman Rick, who immediately tries to improvise lyrics with the word “titties.” (Or as he warbles it, “tit-taaays!”). It’s perfect casting — Rudd’s singing voice keeps up with his comic chops.

Fifteen years ago, Rudd’s Rick fancied himself an up-and-coming American rock god until his grunge act went on a transatlantic tour and he fell in love with an Irish girl, Rachel (Marcella Plunkett), and had a daughter named Aja, a feisty teen played by the scene-stealing Beth Fallon. Settling into a life of anonymity in the Dublin suburbs, Rick now has his wedding band Bride & Groove, which allows him brief flashes of cool — or at least the chance to strut into gigs wearing tight black jeans. His bandmates are pretty funny but so underwritten that one even gives a big speech about how he’s more than just a bit player in Rick’s life.

Straight away we’re suspicious that Carney and co-screenwriter Peter McDonald stashed this story in a drawer ages ago and didn’t bother to dust it off. If Rick quit his serious group during the Obama era, why does he consider himself a peer of Eddie Vedder? The character is written to be in his late 30s, but acts decades older than that, posturing like he’s one of the last ambassadors of authentic rock and roll while ripping through a setlist that’s mostly Hall & Oates. (Shouldn’t he at least be jamming the Killers’ indie-sleaze wedding staple “Mr. Brightside” that sends bridesmaids shrieking onto the dance floor like a maenad cult?)

At one soiree, Rick is asked to pass the mic to Danny, a boy-band celebrity struggling to make the leap to a solo artist. Rick has already mocked him earlier that day as “the death of the music industry,” but Danny proves to be a true performer with enough star power to electrify Rick, who starts copying his gestures, clapping alongside him and having a blast. Their chemistry carries over into an all-night jam session in which Danny and Rick share spliffs, whiskey and scraps of songs that they haven’t managed to perfect.

For a thrilling moment, the movie is a platonic rom-com about two dissatisfied artists coming together from opposite directions: Danny crumpling under mass scrutiny, Rick weary of obscurity. Danny is desperate to get back to playing Madison Square Garden; Rick has long since abandoned his dream of playing there even once. Having seen a movie or two before in my life, I assumed that “Power Ballad” would climax at that stadium with Danny and Rick harmonizing for a crowd of 15,000. Corny, sure, but satisfying.

But this banger of a bonding session is a one-night stand. In a shallow heel turn, Danny poaches one of Rick’s unfinished songs and blows it up into a chart-topper. It’s a major betrayal for Rick and a bummer for the audience, who never get to see the two make music together again. Instead, Jonas’ Danny becomes a callow Hollywood creep just like his manager, a menacing slickster named Mac Darling (Jack Reynor), who seems hip until he tries to explain an internet meme and it becomes obvious that Carney doesn’t understand what a meme is.

Meanwhile, Rick suffers a meltdown, haunted by the hit he can’t escape. The stolen track chases him everywhere: on the radio, overheard at the mall, even at his own gigs where newlyweds cluelessly ask him to play “their” special song. We’re forced to hear endless snippets of it, too, although the full lyrics are saved for the end when we discover that one of songwriters clumsily shoved in the word “albatross.”

“Power Ballad” nods toward a dozen interesting themes, none of which it bothers to explore. It could be about what turns a pretty melody into a mega-smash, about the value of songwriting versus charisma, about timid artists who hoard their best material and showboats obligated to satisfy their promotional teams, or even about how a song ultimately belongs less to its creator than its fans. It also flirts with being about how both men write for female approval — girls are Danny’s fanbase and Rick’s family is his entire world — only to have their women think most of their songs are pandering and dull.

“What are you interested in?” Rick finally huffs to his daughter.

“Revenge,” she says.

Well, Carney’s made a movie about darkness and it’s a total bummer. In a brutal little detail, he contrasts Danny’s bikini groupies with the women in Rick’s crowd, who clomp toward him with toilet paper stuck to their shoes.

“Power Ballad” postures like a sincere drama but has the set pieces of a giant slapstick farce. Rudd seems to have been told he’s in one, playing Rick’s humiliation so large that he looks unhinged, his face covered in cuts and bruises of his own doing that, distractingly, never seem to heal.

The result is punishing — and tone deaf.

LOS ANGELES, May 28 (UPI) — Power Ballad, in select theaters Friday, introduces several provocative themes about creativity and the music industry. Unfortunately, it only pays them lip service and leaves many important ones on the table.

Rick Power (Paul Rudd) is the lead singer of an Irish wedding band who loses the party crowd when he plays his own originals from his U.S. touring days. At one wedding, the bride invites her childhood friend, former boy band singer Danny Wilson (Nick Jonas).

After singing a duet at the wedding, Danny and Rick spend the night together jamming in Danny’s room. Danny even leaves Rick a generous parting gift, though his promise that Rick can get in touch with him through his managers seems empty.

When Danny’s manager, Mac (Jack Reynor) rejects his new solo submissions, Danny records “How to Write a Song (Without You)” which Rick played for him during their night in Ireland. Rick finds out when he hears it in the mall six months later.

This raises poignant questions about authorship. Rick wrote the song but never recorded it. Danny recorded it and made it a hit, but claimed authorship.

The script by John Carney and Peter McDonald goes into thorough detail about how Rick cannot establish a record of writing the song prior to meeting Danny. He has no demos, never shared it with his wedding band, and even his wife (Marcella Plunkett) and daughter (Beth Fallon) can’t remember it out of all the music he’s played in the house.

It’s less surprising that Mac shuts down Rick’s claim and threatens legal retaliation, which a humble Irish wedding singer could never afford to battle. What’s more surprising is which obvious questions Carney and McDonald never think to ask.

Danny got a hit out of “How to Write a Song (Without You).” He can ride that for a bit but what is he going to do when he has to write another and all he’s got are the same trite songs the label rejected before?

Mac and Danny allude to an EP he released that included “How to Write a Song” but we don’t hear any of the other tracks. What B-sides did Mac accept to justify a tour off one hit single?

Danny tells his girlfriend (Havana Rose Liu) that he wrote the song for her. Not only does she never find out, question or appear again in the film, she also doesn’t find out when he later takes two groupies to the hot tub.

Instead, Power Ballad seems more invested in mocking Rick for claiming he had a hand in a hit. It must be hard to live with the song ubiquitous everywhere he goes, and especially when a married couple requests he perform it for them. It seems particularly heartless when Rick’s wife and daughter mock him for it. That they don’t believe he wrote it suggests far deeper conflict in that family, but the film never gets into that either.

Rick also lashes out too hard when he’s defensive. It becomes uncharacteristically bitter for a John Carney movie.

The ultimate confrontation between Rick and Danny is unsatisfying. Their jam session was genuine, two musicians bonding over the art when Rick does not care about Danny’s celebrity.

By the time they meet again, Danny’s arc is reductively “hurt people hurt people.” He’s insecure, and boy, would it have been interesting to see him put to the test to follow up “How to Write a Song” by… writing another song.

It also strains credulity that “How to Write a Song (Without You)” is the comeback hit for Danny. It’s fine but not notably better than his other demos.

Begin Again and Sing Street had original music that sounded like it could sell albums on its own. Once literally became a Broadway musical. By Power Ballad, we’ve got a song less catchy than fictional movie songs like “That Thing You Do” or “Way Back Into Love” from Music & Lyrics.

The film does contrast Rick’s heartfelt performance with Danny’s poser version. A sold out Madison Square Garden doesn’t know the difference, but the viewer of Power Ballad does.

Other bright spots are sporadic and disjointed. Jonas takes some gentle jabs at boy band music. They’d land harder if his character ultimately did man up.

They do portray diverse weddings. Fortunately, LGBTQ unions get screen time along with more heteronormative ones.

A nightmare visualizes Rick’s real insecurities comically. Rick and bandmate Sandy (McDonald) perpetuate a cute scheme to get past security, and their actual “in” with Danny was legitimately established previously. Sandy choosing music over a party girl hitting on him is endearing.

Carney’s earlier movies were genuinely uplifting and inspiring even with their share of heartbreaks. His film about struggling to regain earlier inspiration ultimately faces the same very dilemma and blows it like the movie’s antagonist does.

Lionsgate will release Power Ballad nationwide June 5.

Fred Topel, who attended film school at Ithaca College, is a UPI entertainment writer based in Los Angeles. He has been a professional film critic since 1999, a Rotten Tomatoes critic since 2001, and a member of the Television Critics Association since 2012 and the Critics Choice Association since 2023. Read more of his work in Entertainment.

Grizz Chapman, an actor best known for his role as Grizz on NBC’s Emmy-winning comedy “30 Rock,” has died. He was 52.

Chapman’s cousin, Donte Harrison, confirmed the actor’s death on social media.

“Life gave my cousin Grizz Chapman some heavy battles, but he fought them with strength and dignity until the very end,” Harrison wrote. “A lot of people knew him as the sitcom star from 30 Rock, but we knew the man behind the screen. A good heart, good energy, and somebody who made an impact in this life.

“After years of fighting illness and dialysis, he passed peacefully in his sleep on May 22nd, 2026. I’m thankful we got time to reconnect 2 months before his passing.”

Born Mack D. Chapman on April 16, 1974, in Brooklyn, N.Y., Chapman got the name Grizz while working as a security guard at nightclubs around New York. The claim to fame of the 7-foot-tall security guard turned actor would be portraying a character that resembled himself: a towering bodyguard named Grizz.

Chapman played the mild-mannered bodyguard across 80 episodes of the wildly popular sitcom “30 Rock,” which starred Tina Fey, Tracy Morgan and Alec Baldwin. Chapman’s character was part of the entourage of Tracy Jordan (played by Morgan).

Chapman told Cracked in 2024 that landing “30 Rock” was the “hardest/easiest audition I ever had in my life.”

But it wasn’t until the second season of the show that Chapman felt he really broke through as a performer. On Episode 210, he performs a rendition of “Midnight Train to Georgia” alongside the veteran ensemble. “That showed so many levels of our talents — we got a chance to dance, we got a chance to sing, we got a chance to take direction and to be funny.”

In addition to acting in various projects, including the 2014 film “The Cobbler,” which starred Adam Sandler, and the 2016 thriller “Money Monster,” starring George Clooney and Julia Roberts, Chapman was an advocate for the National Kidney Foundation.

The actor battled high blood pressure and kidney disease and struggled with his weight for years, and in 2009, he announced he was seeking a donor for a kidney transplant. During an appearance on “The Dr. Oz Show,” the actor said, “I don’t want to go through this forever.”

Chapman told Dr. Oz that he’d coped with the news by acknowledging it was “a scary situation” but deciding to “face it one way or another.”

When Dr. Oz asked him what he wished for, the actor said, “I want to stay alive.”

Chapman spent nearly two years undergoing dialysis treatments three days a week for 4½ hours a day while filming “30 Rock” and hoping for a donor. In the process, he lost more than 150 pounds, hoping to be fit enough for the procedure. After the episode of “Dr. Oz” aired, a fan of Chapman’s, Ryan Perkins, flew from Arizona to New York to meet the actor. Perkins, then in his early 20s, knew he wanted to do something that could change someone’s life.

“I was emotional. I was excited. I wanted to scream. It was exciting to meet someone with that kind of willingness to help,” Chapman told the East Valley Tribune.

“How do you ever repay someone for something like that? You can’t. It’s not like borrowing $20 from someone and telling them you’re going to give it back. It’s something that you can never repay someone for.”