Love and Mercy

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Bill Pohlad/Starring: Paul Dano, John Cusack, Elizabeth Banks and Paul Giamatti

Most rock biopics tend to dwell on musicians' reckless flights of Dionysian excess rather than the music itself. We see nothing of the former but learn much about the latter in director Bill Pohlad's excellent Love and Mercy . The film makes us witness to Beach Boy Brian Wilson's painstaking creative process, though it doesn't ignore the darker episodes of his life. Few narrative films about musicians take the time to detail how masterworks come into being. Though the film dramatizes much of the physical and mental dissolution in Wilson's life, we also come away with a sense of his musical brilliance and his need for creative growth; two qualities that have ensured his artistic viability.

Pohlad's imaginative camera work is buttressed by screenwriters Oren Moverman and Michael A. Lerner's terrific script. The story moves fluidly between Wilson's early years and the near past; between Wilson's formative musical life in the early 1960s' and his struggles with a malevolent and manipulative Svengali in the early 1990s'; a charlatan doctor who needlessly prescribed drugs to Wilson to essentially enslave the musician.

When the film begins, we see the elder Wilson (a very fine John Cusack) inside a Cadillac showroom. As he walks among the cars, a lovely saleswoman, Melinda Ledbetter (an equally fine Elizabeth Banks) approaches him. Finding Wilson a little odd, she is nevertheless intrigued. When she asks why an imposing man standing nearby is watching, Wilson identifies him as his bodyguard. In spite of Wilson's salient eccentricities, Melinda is drawn to him. While Wilson and Melinda chat inside a Cadillac, two other men arrive. One of the men is Dr. Eugene Landy (the always terrific Paul Giamatti); Wilson's shrink and self-assigned guardian. As the group exits the dealership, Melinda finds a note left behind by Wilson with three ominous words, which read as a kind of cry for help. The scene effectively and economically constructs a picture of Wilson's life in the 80s' and early 90s' and also introduces two pivotal people in his life; one who changes his life for the better and one who nearly drives him to insanity and financial ruin.

The film cuts to a montage of the Beach Boys in the early 1960s' as Brian, his brothers Carl and Dennis, cousin Mike Love and Beach Boys co-founder Al Jardin pose for promotional photos, perform onstage to screaming teenagers and record some of the band's biggest hits. We see the younger Brian Wilson (exceptionally played by Paul Dano) excitedly sharing his ideas for a new album; mentioning the many and varied instruments he intends to use. In discussing his expansive vision, he refers to The Beatles' music as a gauntlet the band must take up. While Carl, Dennis and Al Jardin show a willingness to share Brian's vision, lead singer Mike Love (Jake Abel) shows a stubborn resistance. Love's reactionary attachment to the Beach Boys' earlier songs grates on Brian, who would like nothing more than to move beyond surfing and car songs. As the story progresses, we see Love and Wilson continue to lock horns over the bands creative direction. But Love is only one of Brian's antagonists. Looming over the band and the lives of the Wilson brothers is their father Murray (Bill Camp); who, like Dr. Eugene Landy, is a brutal, controlling presence the Wilson boys fear and maybe loathe. Though a force behind the band's success, the father is of a mind with Love in his dismissal of Brian's new, more sophisticated approach to the Beach Boys sound. A scene where Murray expresses a strong dislike of one of Brian's new songs not only reveals his backward thinking but also his nature as a fatherly malcontent his son can never appease.

As the film swings between Wilson's later life and his early career, the story becomes a diptych of a man fighting two controlling forces in his life; his father and an unscrupulous man so domineering he thinks nothing of pulling a hamburger out of Brian's hand during a friendly get-together to teach him a lesson about restraint. The story parallels Wilson's two struggles: Wilson's self-extrication from his father's toxic presence and his fight to free himself from the sinister clutches of a man hellbent on destroying his mind and life.

Pohlad maintains dramatic tension in both chapters of Wilson's life. The barrier between past and present is often dissolved in nimble editing; scenes seamlessly drift from Wilson's early life to those of latter times.

The film would still be an affective drama if the story dealt mainly with Wilson's relationships but it offers something more. What sets Pohlad's film apart from lesser musical biopics are the scenes detailing Wilson's creative process in the studio. Seeing no need to continue touring with the band, Wilson devotes his time exclusively to writing and recording new music. Hiring some of the most respected musicians in the business, Wilson sets about creating a new album. His brilliance shines through as we see him direct the musicians with creative precision; requesting odd beats, melodic counterpoints, etc. Though many music biopics treat the subject's genius as a given, Pohlad's film troubles itself to show it.

During a break in recording, after the studio drummer rattles off names of the prominent musical talents he and the other musicians have worked with, he tells Wilson that his music stands tall among the best; an extraordinary compliment, to be sure.

The madness that Wilson was often prey to isn't ignored but shown as integral part of his psychological makeup. We begin to see bizarre behavior, such as Wilson holding a studio full of musicians captive while he gauges the vibes. Dissatisfied with what he finds, Wilson cancels a recording, in spite of the $5,000 cost. When Melinda asks the elder Wilson if he really did spend two years in bed, he tells her that it was actually three. In yet another scene, we see the younger Wilson sitting at a dinner gathering. Sensitive to ambient sounds that he might otherwise incorporate into his music, the collective din of cutlery becomes maddening cacophony until he screams for it to stop, which startles his guests.

In the film's final half-hour, we see Melinda's efforts to free Wilson from Dr. Landy's manic control become an ordeal. Wilson's housemaid uncovers a copy of his will in which the Doctor has made himself sole beneficiary of the estate, which makes it necessary for Carl Wilson to intervene on his brother's behalf. With Melinda's help, the Doctor's terrible machinations are brought to a definitive end.

I really liked Pohlad's film and for many reasons: superlative editing, imaginative visual compositions, top-notch script, et al. But a significant share of the credit for the film's artistic success goes to Paul Dano and John Cusack, whose compelling performances give us a sense of who Brian Wilson was and is. But the supporting cast is no less brilliant. Elizabeth Banks shows us Melinda's compassionate insight while Paul Giamatti conveys Dr. Landy's manipulative self-interest.

I can say I came away from Love and Mercy feeling I got more than just a docudrama about a rock star with his or her head in the music and a foot in the abyss. Pohlad (and the screenwriters) take the time to tell us why Wilson belongs in such rarefied company as Lennon and McCartney, Jagger and Richards or Bruce Springsteen.

As Paul McCartney himself once said, without The Beach Boys' Pet Sounds, there would be no Sgt. Pepper. Though we see the recordings of a few tracks from the Beach Boys' landmark album in the film, we never hear it mentioned nor are we told anything about its impact on rock music.

There is also much more to be said about Wilson's erratic behavior in the period between the late 60s' and the decade thereafter but we can credit the screenwriters for exercising restraint. What we need to know we see. Anything more might be excess.

I think Love and Mercy is one of the better music biopics I've seen in sometime. How easy it would have been for the film to become a tawdry tale of drugs and hyperbolic behavior in the manner of Oliver Stones' The Doors. Pohlad's film may become one of summer's cinematic highlights.