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FILM: ‘Love & Mercy’

“What if I lose it and never get it back? What would I do then?”

The opening lines of new Brian Wilson biopic Love & Mercy could be referring to anything. The ebb and flow of loss and gain (and, inevitably, loss again) is a centralized theme in the film and, in fact, Wilson’s life. Though he’s something of an enigma to the general public, there are a few things most curious moviegoers will know about the protagonist before heading to the theater: he was the brains behind the Beach Boys, he suffered a nervous breakdown, probably took too many drugs, and spent a chunk of the 1970s in bed. Many laymen will also come to the film seeking the answer to one seemingly simple question: “What’s wrong with him?”

For a film that attempts to pack in 50 years of one individual’s life, Love & Mercy does an admirable job. Enlisting two A-list actors, Paul Dano and John Cusack, to portray Brian Wilson at different stages in his life was a smart idea, even though Dano is far more in-tune with the role than Cusack (although, to be fair, when Cusack is heard and not seen, as in a scene where he’s a phantom voice on the telephone, his portrayal is uncanny). With a figure like Brian Wilson, it would have been almost too easy for any actor to twist him into a caricature, and neither Dano nor Cusack stoop so low. Instead, they both give great dignity to a man that deserves nothing less, all while capturing the demons that have plagued Wilson since the ’60s.

Instead of a traditional, chronological approach, the film flip flops between the 1960s and the late ’80s and early ’90s.  At times, it makes the plot feel disjointed and exposes the one, true downfall of the entire project: Love & Mercy is really two movies rolled into one. What should have maybe been a serial or two-part series is instead crushed into a single “blockbuster” (term used loosely), which also attempts to cram in Good Movie 101 ingredients: conflict, romance, redemption. This flaw might almost be forgivable if it weren’t for the fact that neither story particularly drives the other or deepens the viewer’s understanding of Wilson.

Even the root of Wilson’s misery, his father Murry, is skimmed over; Murry appears in one or two scenes, and I’m not sure that the average viewer would even sense he was a character at all. For example, in real life, Wilson banned his father from the studio and from having any control over the Beach Boys’ records in the mid-’60s. Murry, in retaliation, got himself a new group, the Sunrays. At one point in the film, Murry bursts into the recording studio and plays the band’s new single, “I Live For the Sun,” for Wilson and the boys. In what turns out to be one of the most impactful scenes in the entire movie, Brian bursts out of the control room and into the studio, where he attempts to block out the song. The audience is treated to a cinematic moment where we can truly experience the anguish and torment inside the mind of Brian Wilson, but, again, I’m not sure the scene ran as deeply as it could have.

Along with Murry, the film dances around some of the other villains in Wilson’s life, including his cousin, Mike Love. Although Love is edged out in the later sequences, his presence is felt in many of the ’60s-set scenes, even when his character’s not in the room. In the studio, Brian constantly frets about his cousin and his band’s approval of his new material (Pet Sounds) when they return from the road and hear it. In fact, gratuitous amounts of screen time are spent with Wilson in the studio, perfecting his arrangements with help from the band of studio musicians controversially called “the Wrecking Crew.” What would ordinarily be as exciting as watching someone else playing a video game for 30 minutes is actually extremely enthralling; watching Dano work as Wilson the Younger is almost like watching high-definition archival footage. It allows the viewer to become as invested as Wilson is in the process… and as disappointed when Love and the crew return from the road and ultimately shirk the new direction.

One of the film’s most commercial premises is the love story between Brian Wilson and his second wife, Melinda Ledbetter, who’s portrayed ably by Elizabeth Banks. As in real life, the pair meet at a car dealership where Ledbetter works and strike up something of an odd friendship. Their relationship grows into a romance over time, and Melinda is gradually exposed to Wilson’s past, his issues — and his captor, Dr. Eugene Landy (Paul Giamatti), the Hollywood psychologist whose round-the-clock guardianship of Wilson is not only exacerbating his mental problems, but also alienating his family, friends, and blocking any alone time with Ledbetter. Landy even accompanies them on dates; at one point, throwing caution to the wind, Brian and Melinda jump off of a yacht, into the ocean, and swim to shore, just to avoid Landy & Co.

As far as a cinematic storyline, Melinda as Brian’s lover, rescuer, and, ultimately, healer, works. (We’ll forgo comparing it to real life, where Melinda is a somewhat controversial figure in Wilson’s life, although the pair are still married.) In a dramatic climax within the confines of a studio — one of the only juxtapositions of the Dano and Cusack Wilsons — she fails to force Brian away from Landy, but the two later reconnect. If Wilson were a fictional character, one might assume they lived happily ever after. Even though we know that’s not quite the case, it makes for good storytelling.

Probably the real winner here, however, is Atticus Ross, whose score and treatment of the Beach Boys’ music provides an otherworldly backdrop to the drama of Wilson’s life. It ties these two disparate plots into a tidy package, providing some consistency.

Well, consistency in Beach Boys terms, that is. And maybe the most accurate part about Love & Mercy is the lack of it. After all, even after all these years, every person involved in Wilson’s life has a different story. This is only one piece of a million-word puzzle. Perhaps, for that reason, we should take the film for what it is and what it does: perpetuate the legend of Brian Wilson and maybe cause a few more people to ask, “What’s wrong with him?”

Love & Mercy is in theaters today. If you’ve seen it, please share your thoughts in the comments!

Allison Johnelle Boron
Allison Johnelle Boron is a Los Angeles-based music writer and editor whose work has appeared in Paste, Goldmine, Popdose, and more. She is the founder and editor of REBEAT. Her karaoke song is "Runaway" by Del Shannon. Find her on Twitter. All writing and opinions are unaffiliated with any company or organization and are strictly her own.
  • George L

    I absolutely loved the movie !!!! It could have been 2 hours longer & I would have sat through it.