#badwigs

In ancient Greek, there’s a word, thumos (θυμός) which refers to the seat of one’s emotions. It defines a person, gives them life. The Greeks seated the thumos deep in a person, in their stomach, but it doesn’t refer to those butterflies in one’s stomach. It’s deeper too than our modern notion of the heart as the seat of romantic love. Your thumos is a life-force than can become easily upset when in according to one’s emotions. It’s the feeling of hollowness and emptiness that accompanies watching another person’s suffering (pathos, in Greek). In another words, it’s needed to have any sort of sympathy (sympathos). I reference the Greeks both to be pretentious (since, hey, who’s even reading this!) and also because never have I have seen a movie more taxing on my thumos than Love & Mercy.

Certainly not what I expected walking into a film about the Beach Boy’s lead vocalist/songwriter Brian Wilson. What I sort of expected to see I only saw in the first five minutes: a montage of young, mop-top-headed sun-tanned kids smiling at a camera singing about summer and sun and surfing and fun! But when the movie properly begins in early 1966, Wilson’s budding genius is done with writing songs about summer, fun, and sun. “Surfers don’t even like our music!” he exclaims at one point. He longs for something deeper, searching for validation he will never get.

Seriously, like 3 minutes of the movie... Don't expect this!

In terms of screenwriting, Love & Mercy is a fascinating biopic. It avoids the cliché of starting from a troubled youth (although there certainly is one) and moving chronologically, and it also avoids the cliché of beginning with some pivotal moment in the person’s life and then flashing backwards to see how that person got there. Instead screenwriters Oren Moverman and Michael A. Lerner tell two stories in parallel. Each story has its own arc and features a different cast entirely (although the two do meet up at the end in a satisfying montage that harkens back to the Jupiter sequence of 2001: A Space Odyssey). One story focuses on the aforementioned young Brian Wilson (Paul Dano) in 1966 writing and recording his masterwork album Pet Sounds. The other focuses on a Brian Wilson (John Cusack) living nearly twenty years later who is still reeling from a mental breakdown that occurred in the late 60s.

Such a set-up risks the chance of an unbalanced movie. Both casts need to be top-dollar, both stories need to be well-written and engaging, and, most importantly, the director needs to be able to manage the tone between both stories such that the audience isn’t sitting around during one story just so we can find out what is going on in the other. Luckily, the director, Bill Pohland, finds common ground between the two tales by framing them as one large horror story. Seriously, the number of times a dissonant crescendo sent shivers down my spine alone classifies it as a horror movie. Even the first time we meet elder Wilson trying to buy a new car seems to be an innocent, if awkward, interaction. A soft-spoken, meandering Cusack engages with bouncy and delightful salesman Melinda Ledbetter (Elizabeth Banks), but upon leaving Wilson leaves Ledbetter a note though which reads (cue dissonant crescendo) “Scared. Alone. Afraid.”

The movie succeeds so well, though, because it manages to be more than just thumos-disrupting set-piece after thumos-disrupting set-piece. For every scene of the elder Cusack re-enacting what it felt to be beat as a child in the middle of a crowded restaurant, there’s a scene of the younger Wilson aglow amidst the recording of Pet Sounds. For every scene of the younger Wilson undergoing fits of anxiety and terror, there’s a heart-warming scene of the elder Wilson falling in love with Ledbetter.

My only compaint... they couldn't find a better wig?

The movie, like all great movies, does function as more than just some picutres to accompany popcorn consumption. Most of it surrounds the film’s main villain (and there is definitely a villain), the elder Wilson’s legal guardian Dr. Eugene Landy (Paul Giamatti). Yet, years of watching after Wilson has made him lose whatever good intentions he once had. The main we see is a terrifying, controlling, manipulative man who drugs up Wilson to the point of constant sedation. The movie raises questions about the treatment of the mentally ill in this country, the effect of beating our children, and provides fascinating insight into the recoring process for a true genius (both the good parts and the bad)

The final thing about this movie that should probably be sadi about this movie is that it is significantly better if you know about Wilson’s story prior to viewing. I don’t just say this because the small nudges to Beach Boys history will be a delight to any and all fans, but also because his story is one of those where the truth is stranger than any fiction. The vast majority of the material presented is 100% true, no matter how far-fetched or Hollywoody they seem. Yes, Landy truly was that inhuman. Yes, Wilson’s father was that unlonving and unforgiving. It’s easy to assume the director is exaggerating, but that’s what makes this movie so good… it’s real… and that’s why your thumos aches so much. This was someone’s life, and someone perhaps you thought you knew.

**** (4/4 stars)

Capsule Review

Maybe he counts the wigs as the joke...