Certificate: 15
Running Time: 98 mins
UK Distributor: Lionsgate
UK Release Date: 29 May 2026
Paul Rudd, Nick Jonas, Havana Rose Liu, Jack Reynor, Peter McDonald, Marcella Plunkett, Sophie Vavasseur, Beth Fallon
John Carney (director, writer, producer, composer), Peter McDonald (writer), Anthony Bregman, Peter Cron, Rebecca O’Flanagan and Robert Walpole (producers), Gary Clark (composer), Yaron Orbach (cinematographer), Stephen O’Connell (editor)
A wedding singer (Rudd) discovers that a troubled pop star (Jonas) has stolen one of his songs…
Music has played a significant role in most of John Carney’s films, from his Oscar-winning breakthrough Once to the hugely underrated Sing Street. They may not be straightforward musicals (unless you count the award-winning stage adaptation of Once) and more so films that happen to have songs in them, but Carney clearly sees music as an emotional storytelling tool that encapsulates the universality of his movies, and his latest film Power Ballad further utilises its effectiveness in a film that is, once again, all about the music.
But unlike Carney’s previous work, which depicted the creation and development of music as a joyous and soul-repairing process, Power Ballad focuses primarily on how a song can also cause strife and even creative stagnation. In this case, it takes a look at how songs such as the one heavily featured in this movie can be altered and bastardised beyond repair, until its original intentions are no longer visible. Not only that, but the bitter fallout between the artists themselves is a major theme as one’s success ultimately becomes another’s misery, making this a slightly more pessimistic (and arguably a bit more real) than what we’ve seen from this filmmaker.
Even so, the film’s winning charm and heartfelt approach gives it a much-needed jolt of life that could otherwise have been lost in the harshness.
The film opens with Rick Power (Paul Rudd), an American musician based in Dublin, performing as the front man for a wedding band known as The Bride & Groove. Rick’s dreams of international stardom may have been halted after settling down with his wife Rachel (Plunkett) and their teenage daughter Aja (Beth Fallon), but he still pursues the spotlight, even working some of his original songs into the approved setlist of cover tracks, much to the chagrin of his fellow bandmates and his audience. At a later gig, Rick crosses paths with Danny Wilson (Nick Jonas), a former boy band member whose career is on the verge of irrelevance, and the two end up spending a jovial booze-fuelled late night jam session together, where Danny is intrigued by a particular tune that Rick plays out of the blue.
Months later, Rick is shocked to hear Danny singing that very song everywhere he goes and quickly discovers that the emotional track has relaunched his career. Convinced that he is the true author of this chart-topping track, Rick struggles to get anyone on his side due to lack of evidence, even the lawyers whom he approaches for legal advice. All of this leaves Rick to wallow in despair whilst Danny reaps the benefits of becoming a music superstar, albeit off the back of something originated by the older faded musician.
In true Carney fashion, Power Ballad is the kind of film that seeks to implement a crowd-pleasing sentimentality where the heart lies in the main characters’ connection to authentic music. He mostly succeeds, albeit not quite as much as his past films, with the script by Carney and Peter McDonald (the latter also taking on a supporting role as Rick’s dim-witted yet overly loyal bandmate Sandy) doing decently well to maintain its smooth and easy-going tone throughout most of the film. You feel this most in the sections where it’s just the two leads indulging in their musical passions, for while both Rudd’s Rick and Jonas’s Danny approach their craft very differently – Danny’s, for instance, is a lot more over-produced and soulless compared to the more grounded yet livelier cover tracks that Rick begrudgingly plays at his day job – they each share a common desire to share their music and their love for it with the world. There’s real charm to moments like these, which make it a nice film to chill out to, even as the vibe between them starts to get rather confrontational later on.
Of course, that confrontation stems from what Rick sees as a deeply personal betrayal by Danny, but the script interestingly paints neither as villain nor out-right hero. It’s not afraid to show and point out their flaws, particularly those of Rick who becomes less and less likeable as the film goes on, almost to a point where you start to side with the popstar who’s certainly a little shallow, and certainly could have at least reached out to his one-time jam buddy about using his song, but is more so guilty of being kind of spineless and too easily manipulated by his douchebag record executive Mac (played by Carney regular Jack Reynor). Yet, you’re still invested in their arcs because not only are Rudd and Jonas’s performances strong enough to carry the material, but these characters do ultimately have some humanity left in them that’s just been lost amid their respective bitterness and seduction of fame. They still feel like actual people who aren’t set to just one emotion or mindset, which makes them worth watching even when they’re at their least appealing.
There are some other flaws to the overall film, such as characters who verge a bit more on the cartoony side, while others like Havana Rose Liu are surprisingly wasted in throwaway roles, and some of the dialogue can be rather cheesy, to where you can tell which parts were written by Carney and which were all McDonald. But the goodwill is definitely there, and while it may not be as profound or as emotional as the director’s past films, Power Ballad is a fine little number that’s pleasant and catchy enough to satisfy your musical tastes.
Power Ballad is a charming and heartfelt comedy-drama with pleasant music and strong performances, but those expecting a wholly feel-good romp akin to filmmaker John Carney’s previous work will find this to be a slightly more pessimistic, and therefore not quite as emotionally profound, new offering.
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