Love & Mercy - 2015 - 8/10
Resisted this for a very long time.
I am very familiar with the Beach Boys, particularly Brian Wilson’s story.
Glossing or fabricating on the filmmakers part would ruin this for me.
A few quibbles aside, this is highly recommended to Wilson fans, and generally recommended to casuals.
Paul Dano portrays Brian at his creative zenith, while John Cusack’s Wilson is caught, not in the lowest point, but certainly in a career trench.
Dano very good as young Brian, innocent, ebullient, full of uncontrolled ideas.
Cusack has the tougher road as he does not resemble Brian, yet he does not fall into the cheap actor’s trick of impersonation. Hairstyle or Wilson’s sidespeech. Cusack works marvels with mannerisms.
Basic tale of collapse and later resurrection is smartly told, if somewhat disingenuous.
Outstanding use of colors and clothing to evoke time and convey subliminal messages.
The two docs on this are helpful.
First problem - Dr Landy. Yes, a despicable, self-serving cad, and yet, he did get Brian out of bed, got him to exercise, eat better, lose weight. He also pushed him into the studio to craft a great album.
(Rolling Stone published an insightful article in their August 11, 1988 issue.)
No reference whatsoever to the “drainers” as Marilyn (wife #1) called them.
The spongers and hangers on who were human parasites.
No reference to Diane Rovell, Marilyn’s sister. Both were in Wilson produced groups, The Honeys and Spring.
Another problem - The band’s discomfort with “Pet Sounds”. As if they did not understand it. Fact is, Brian used crack musicians and the band knew the songs would be difficult to perform live. (Note - they later learned.)
This dovetails into the “Smile” sessions where Mike Love lobbied hard to return to the old cars, girls and surf formula, which was already passé.
In 1967 music was exploding. Filmmakers, instead of playing a Dusty Springfield song, should have selected The Doors, Pink Floyd, Jefferson Airplane, Cream, Hendrix, to name a few, to show just how out of touch Mike Love was, and how Brian, following his own muse, was more cued in.
Another quibble. Although the movie flashbacks on the early Beach Boy ascent, the subsequent years are not shown. The band continued, with and without Brian, to release well received albums for another decade.
As noted, these are nitpicks, and the casual Beach Boys fan couldn’t care less. Moreover, hardcore fans - of any musician, poet, writer, actor, artist, chef - are often obsessive and strange.
Correspondence
In the summer of 1996, the inaugural issue of the fanclub newsletter, “Break Away with Brian Wilson” showed up in my mailbox. This came out of nowhere and I was thrilled!
I think my name was added to the initial mailing list by David Leaf, author of “The Beach Boys And The California Myth” as well as the liner notes for the Beach Boys Capitol two-fers. I had written him occasionally, asking specific questions or making comments.
Anyway, I scribbled a thank you note for the newsletter and posted it back to Sherman Oaks.
No reply.
The newsletters showed up on and off for several years. Two one year, three another, perhaps one in a busy year.
I wrote back sometimes. Referenced an article in the newsletter, or spoke about the record store where I still worked. What was selling, what staff listened to, what customers said or did or bought. Or a story.
No reply.
This was a lean period in Wilson’s career. Comebacks are hard in America. “I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times” sold fair, “Orange Crate Art” sold poorly. He hit the road with a strong backing group anchored by The Wondermints. They performed “Pet Sounds” and deeper Beach Boy cuts to growing audiences. Seemingly overnight, Brian was rediscovered.
Newsletters described the studio, the tours, his family life. Possibly, the fanclub flyers helped with his return, but were no longer necessary. After the winter of 2002 there were no more. “Break Away with Brian” vanished as mysteriously as it had arrived.
An early issue on pdf - https://sites.google.com/site/saikung4/Break%20Away%201.pdf
I continued to drop the odd letter now and then, always to the old Sherman Oaks address.
No reply.
Then again, none of my letters were ever returned.
Someone received them.
I sent my last letter in 2004, as our record store was closing. Across the country, record shops were disappearing, like soda fountains, like video stores, like bookshops soon would. The era of “owning" music had passed.
Ours was a huge store with deep catalog. I wrote Brian how our bins emptied, how we shifted dwindling stock to the front and killed the lights in most of the store. The atmosphere was eerie and depressing.
I told Brian how we kept “Imagination” and “Roxy Theatre” in rotation to the end, sending out good vibes to staff and customers. I thanked him for the sheer volume of fabulous songs he had shared with people. Thanked him being positive and giving in a world that is seldom either. Sent the letter. A day later, switched off the lights for good.
No reply.
And yet ... over the years, instead of a letter, stray gifts graced my mailbox ...
http://i66.tinypic.com/anngp0.jpg
http://i64.tinypic.com/27x0b4j.jpg
http://i66.tinypic.com/m73yx3.jpg
Brian has always been a totally class act.
