Social Distancing Entertainment: Love & Mercy
It’s not unusual for some of us, with this newfound time on our hands, to reflect on those films in the past that have slipped through the cracks one way or another. Whether it’s an indie film that didn’t release near you (or it’s a classic film that feels embarrassing to admit you’ve never seen), there is something cathartic to using that time to sit down and chip away at that back catalog, maybe even discovering a new favorite in the process. Personally, one of those films that I kept wanting to watch but never did was “Love & Mercy,” the musical biopic from Bill Pohlad about The Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson. I’m a sucker for music biopics (and Paul Dano...and John Cusack) so it felt like an easy first film to start off my “busy schedule.” What I got instead was probably one of the best music biopics I’ve ever seen.
Released in the summer of 2015, the film follows Brian Wilson at two different points of his life: the 1960’s and the 1980’s. In the 1960’s, the film follows young Wilson (played by Paul Dano) as he decides to skip the rest of a worldwide tour in order to work on “Pet Sounds,” the album that’ll go down in history as the best Beach Boys record as well as one of the best rock albums of all time. In-between the album’s production, the film flashes forward to the 1980’s as car saleswoman Melinda Ledbetter (Elizabeth Banks) meets an older Brian Wilson (John Cusack), resulting in a blossoming romance the reveals to her the hardships Wilson has dealt with in the last twenty years. To make matters worse, Melinda begins to suspect that Brian’s therapist Eugene Landy (Paul Giamatti) prefers to drug him into oblivion rather than help him with his mental instability. As the film jumps back and forth, “Love & Mercy” uses the two time periods to present the moments that changed Brian’s life for better and for worse, showing the beauty and tragedy that was practically sewn into the band’s main creative force.
It’s difficult to find the best place to start with “Love & Mercy” because the film does so much right. In terms of the music biopic, the film’s execution feels superior and effortless in comparison to others in the subgenre, using its runtime to flesh out two eras in Brian’s life instead of, like most music biopics, using the two hours to barely scratch the surface of what makes Brian Wilson such an interesting figure. The extensive focus on the album’s production is so much more gratifying because we see Wilson’s creativity bloom over time, giving the viewers an insightful look at the process behind the band’s best work. The film does discuss Wilson’s childhood and major depressive slump post-”Pet Sounds” during the 80’s but they’re a natural addition to the story, using Melinda and Brian’s budding romance as a way for both of them to open up about the blemishes in their pasts. It’s even better that Pohlad kept Cusack and Dano away from each other during production in order to create their own authentic take on Wilson as a person, creating two killer performances that bizarrely feel like the same person despite the lack of contact (and physical differences) between the actors.
Speaking of Paul Dano and John Cusack, these two alone make the film worth watching multiple times. Dano’s performance deserves an Oscar by not only nearly capturing the physical look Wilson had in the 1960’s flawlessly but also putting every bit of talent and passion into it, resulting in one of the best performances in a music biopic as well as my favorite performance from him. Dano captures Wilson’s love of creating music as well as his terror as his mental state began to go somewhere he couldn’t bear. Dano has the ability to make silence, a piercing scream, and even a single tear emotionally resonate to a level that feels like he’s right in front of you instead of behind a screen. It’s such a phenomenal performance that the fact it wasn’t even considered for the 2016 Oscars is truly infuriating.
On a different note, John Cusack’s performance is entirely different. While there are elements that intersect with Dano’s performance (obviously the coincidental by-product of both actors studying the same figure), Cusack’s portrayal of Brian Wilson is much more tragic and subdued. As the film progresses, it’s hard not to see the flame that made Wilson such a weird yet influential character in his early years in Cusack’s eyes, capturing an era in Wilson’s life where he was paranoid to the point of being scared to leave a toxic relationship solely because he was scared to have control of his life again. It’s a subtle, passionate portrayal that feels like the perfect yin to Dano’s yang, defining the dimensions of Wilson as a person better than a single actor probably could’ve done. If Dano’s performance infuriated me due to the lack of awards recognition, it’s safe to say that Cusack’s performance infuriated me because, as a fan of his earlier work, “Love & Mercy” shows how good of an actor Cusack is when given the opportunity.
Even if the discussion of the film doesn’t pertain to the lead actors’ performances, “Love & Mercy” has a lot of greatness across the board. The rest of the ensemble ranges from really good to great, the cinematography has its moments, the set and costume designs do a phenomenal job authenticating both eras, the film’s pacing is near perfect, and the choice to let Paul Dano sing the songs, play the songs, and even recreate old session tapes shows how much Pohland and company cared about the subject matter. I do have a few gripes with the film but, in all honesty, those all faded to the background when the film’s final Beach Boys song played into the credits. “Love & Mercy” shows the importance of why music biopics should let certain moments in time breathe instead of forcing a person’s entire life into a premade formula or structure. It’s a hard and inspiring film that has led me to humming “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” every day post-viewing, wondering if I’ll watch another film on my back catalog or just give into watching “Love & Mercy” again.