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Annette

The music of brothers Ron and Russell Mael, better known as the band Sparks, has always invited the descriptor “cinematic.” Maybe it’s their elaborate arrangements or Ron’s literate, self-aware lyrics. Or maybe it’s their album covers, which always hinted at little stories, like Propaganda, where they were bound and gagged in the back of a speedboat, apparently being taken by unseen kidnappers to be dumped in international waters. Why? Who knows. That’s Sparks for you.

As detailed in Edgar Wright’s excellent documentary The Sparks Brothers, the Maels, who started in the late 1960s, had their first hit in the glam rock era, and practically invented synth-pop, took to music videos like fish to water. At the end of the MTV ’80s, they tried to expand into film with hot new director Tim Burton, pitching a musical version of the manga Mai, the Psychic Girl. It sounded impossibly weird back then, especially once Burton became the biggest filmmaker in the world with Batman, and it never came to fruition. But looking back from 2021, where Japanese manga and anime artists have conquered the globe, the idea seems way ahead of its time. Again, that’s Sparks for you.

Henry McHenry (Adam Driver) and Ann Defrasnoux (Marion Cotillard) are parents to a baby played by a wooden puppet.

With Wright’s doc premiering at Sundance and getting wide release, it seems finally, 50 years into their career, Sparks’ time has come. (Of course, the film had the misfortune of premiering the same year as Oscar-shoo-in Summer of Soul, which is perfectly on-brand for the band’s snakebite career.) Now the brothers have finally gotten to fulfill their big screen musical ambitions with Annette, a long-brewing collaboration with French director Leos Carax. It’s beautiful, elaborate, obtuse, uncompromising, and either ahead of its time or outside of the concept of time. In other words, it’s very Sparks.

Annette stars Adam Driver as Henry McHenry, a comedian in the perpetually aggrieved style of Lenny Bruce, who falls deeply in love with opera singer Ann Defrasnoux, played by Marion Cotillard. After a whirlwind (and extremely horny) courtship and marriage, the couple gives birth to Annette, a beautiful baby girl played for most of the movie by a puppet. But there’s trouble in paradise. Ann’s ex is her accompanist (Simon Helberg), and his continued presence brings out Henry’s jealous side. Meanwhile, Henry’s new show “The Ape of God” — which is little more than Henry lashing out at the audience — is bombing, while Ann’s career is taking off. Things come to a head when a drunken Henry sails the couple’s yacht into a storm. Then the really weird stuff starts.

About halfway through Annette, I turned to my wife and said, “Adam Driver is our Brando.” The guy is good at everything from stealing the show as Kylo Ren in the Star Wars sequel trilogy to embodying the gawky, quiet poet in Paterson. Annette proves he’s game for anything. It’s like Brando singing in Guys and Dolls, only instead of appearing in a popular Broadway musical, it’s a deeply weird, experimental glam rock opera. Who else would risk their career for this? Who else could pull it off so well?

Speaking of pulling it off, a few minutes later I said to my wife, “Wow, he sure is shirtless a lot.” Carax knows he’s got two of the most beautiful people on the planet, and he’s not afraid to shoot them in all their glory, with sex scenes that look like Caravaggio paintings. Did I mention they’re singing during the sex scenes?

Carax isn’t afraid of anything. The visuals are just as striking and experimental as the music. He puts his stars on the back of a real motorcycle, singing into the wind with no helmets. The emotions are big and brash, flirting with the outlandish, until it comes to a boil in an absolute barn burner of a final scene.

Annette is going to be called “too weird” by a lot of people whose favorite films involve space wizards and flying men in tights, but for me, it was the perfect amount of weird. In an industry that promises magic but delivers conformity, it’s a fresh breath of originality. That’s Sparks for you.

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Film Features Film/TV

The Sparks Brothers: Your Favorite Band’s Favorite Band

Earlier this week, I got to watch New Orleans filmmaker Randy Mack experience The Sparks Brothers live on Twitter. It went something like this: 

5 min: “Hilarious Mockumentary” 

10 min “Wait, is this real?” 

15 min “Well-doctored vintage footage—funny!” 

25 min “OK, this must be real.” 

30 min “haha ‘Muff Winwood’ what a sick parody” 

35 min “fuck I think it’s real?” 

45 min “*head explodes*”

Yes, Randy. Sparks was, and is, a real band. They are not, as everyone inexplicably thought, British, but rather from Southern California. Brothers Ron and Russell Mael have been making music together for 50 years. Ron is a keyboard virtuoso with a deadpan scowl and a wicked sense of humor. Russell is taller, blessed with more conventional good looks, and a precisely controlled voice that can be Freddie Mercury operatic or Robert Plant screamy, according to the needs of the song. They made their recording debut in 1967 as Halfnelson with the little-heard “Computer Girl,” which got the attention of legendary prog-rock musician and producer Todd Rundgren. The reason most people think they’re from the UK is that they were discovered on the right side of the pond before they were accepted in America. In 1974, they appeared on the classic BBC show Top of the Pops to sing “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us,” and soon the song was burning up the charts. 

Ron Mael with Russell dummy from a vintage music video.

It’s tough to say what Sparks sounds like, because they radically change their sound every other album, and they are reportedly now working on their 25th full length. They started out as Pink Floyd-like psychedelia, but were well-positioned to go glam because of Russel’s rock god locks and Ron’s uncanny ability to absorb new music and immediately create a synthesis that’s smarter and better than the inspiration. The biggest coup of their career was when they almost single-handedly created the synth pop branch of New Wave after hearing Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love” and cold-calling Italo-disco producer Giorgio Moroder. The brothers fired their band, bulked up on synthesizers and drum machines, and made the album No. 1 in Heaven. “The Number One Song in Heaven” and “Beat the Clock” became huge hits in Europe and inspired a legion of musicians to put down their guitars and make music from bloopy noises. 

The Sparks Brothers is director Edgar Wright’s first documentary. The Sparks superfan is better known for his stylish, groundbreaking pop confections like Scott Pilgrim vs. the World and Shaun of the Dead. Wright weaponized his musical obsession in 2017 with the balletic car chase movie Baby Driver. His restless, inventive visual style fits perfectly with Sparks’ wry, heady music. His energetic editing keeps the proceedings light and eminently watchable throughout its two-hour-plus running time.  

That sounds like a long movie, but there’s a lot of story to cover, and the Mael brothers, now in their seventies, are endlessly fascinating characters. Wright is not alone in the Sparks cult. They are, as the tagline goes, your favorite band’s favorite band. From Beck to Björk, Duran Duran to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, author Neil Gaiman to comedian Patton Oswalt, everyone wants to weigh in on the brilliance of the Maels. 

Animated sequences fill in the gaps in The Sparks Brothers.

Sparks, while they perpetually hung around on the musical B list, made frequent television appearances in the ’70s and ’80s, which means Wright has a ton of archival footage to work with. Especially entertaining are the duo’s appearances on American Bandstand. At one point, Dick Clark asks “Who is the oldest?” to which Ron deadpans “You are.” For some of the juicier stories, which happened without cameras rolling, Wright resorts to animating the visuals. This is pretty standard for documentary recreations these days, but the director, like the band, keeps changing styles. Some of the stories are told in stop motion, while others are hand-drawn animation and CGI. 

Why, exactly, Sparks were perpetual also-rans in America is a good question. Wright takes a couple of stabs at answering. Maybe it was Ron’s Hitler mustache. (It’s a Charlie Chaplin mustache, Ron would insist.) Maybe they were just too smart for the audience, or they never stuck around in the same style long enough for their following to grow beyond the loyal cult. But as the film progresses, that question becomes less and less interesting. What makes The Sparks Brothers a must-see is the brothers’ impish wit, ample charisma, and bottomless well of unique talent. And they’re still at it. In July, the musical Annette the boys wrote and scored, starring Adam Driver and Marion Cotillard, will open the Cannes Film Festival. It’s Sparks’ world; we just live in it.  

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Film/TV Film/TV/Etc. Blog

Sundance in Memphis: Brothers and Sisters

The Sparks Brothers

There’s a lot of remarkable things about Sundance 2021, but it will be remembered as a year of great music-related documentaries. After the shattering Summer of Soul opened the virtual end of the festival, next up was The Sparks Brothers. Director Edgar Wright made his name with snappy comedies like Sean of the Dead and the almost-musical car chase picture Baby Driver. For his first documentary, he tackled “your favorite band’s favorite band.” Sparks are the brothers Ron and Russel Mael, who are not, in fact, British, but from California. Wright makes clearing up that misconception his first order of business as he plunges into the fascinating, convoluted history of the group.

After being inspired by the British Invasion, the Mael brothers broke into the business as Halfnelson. From their first recording session in 1967, where they created a song called “Computer Girl”, the duo staked out a wry, witty outsider sound. Over the next five decades, they declined to dumb it down or repeat themselves, even when that meant alienating fans who might have just discovered them. Their work veered from Floyd-esque prog rock to the shimmering, Georgio Moroder pop of 1979’s “The Number One Song In Heaven”, which defined the New Wave synth-pop sound that would dominate the airwaves of the 1980s, and still resonates strongly today.

Wright has plenty of material to work with. Sparks made numerous television appearances over the years, including a triumphant breakout on England’s Top of the Pops and near-annual confrontations with a baffled Dick Clark on American Bandstand. (“Which one is the oldest?” Clark asked the brothers. “You are,” replied Ron.) His interviews with the brothers, still stunningly charismatic as they enter their 70s, make clear that the frequent stylistic shifts were not merely done to chase the latest trend, but were just how Ron and Russel’s collective mind works. They couldn’t keep doing the same thing over and over again if they wanted to—and at times during their epic, up-and-down career, it probably would have been better if they had shown some consistency. Even their failed projects, such as the years they spent collaborating with Tim Burton trying to create an animated musical based on a Japanese manga, were ahead of their time.

Wright is a superb filmmaker who brings his restless mind to the documentary, creating a film that is just as vibrant as his fiction work. His fanboy enthusiasm for Sparks shines, and as he devotes running time to the testimonies of fans, he shows he’s not alone. The 2-hour-plus running time seemed long at first glance, but there’s so much story, character, and style on display that it whizzes by. While it lacks the gut-punch emotionalism of Summer of Soul, The Sparks Brothers is a load of fun.

Ailey

Next, we decamped the drive-in for another documentary that proved engrossing. To most people, Alvin Ailey is a brand that is synonymous with modern dance. The American Dance Theater that bears his name in New York is considered the pinnacle of the form. But as director Jamila Wignot’s film reveals, the legend was also a human being. Ailey grew up as the only child of a single mother in Jim Crow-era Texas, where the problems of his Blackness were compounded by his obvious homosexuality. He gravitated towards dance in school, but it wasn’t until a liberating trip to Los Angeles that he found his calling and gave himself permission to pursue it.

A pitfall that docs like Ailey often fall into is assuming the audience knows too much about the famous person they’re profiling. You might know Ailey was famous, but his personal trials and tribulations don’t mean much unless you can understand his talent. If you’ve never seen Ailey himself dance before, the early filmed performances of dance pieces like “Revelations” will be a…well, a revelation.

After establishing his artistic bonafides and the legacy of the groundbreaking dance theater he founded, Wignot turns to Ailey’s personal life. Consumed with dance, he appeared to many around him as a cipher. As one dancer reveals, the world didn’t want to know who Ailey was. They only wanted the legend. The dancer loved by everyone was intensely lonely, having only one boyfriend of note who ultimately walked out on him in the midst of a house party and never returned. Ailey is a more conventional film than The Brothers Sparks, but Wignot’s transparent style is ideal for this story of sacrificing all for art.

Twins Ani and Alessandra Mesa star in the neo-noir thriller Superior.

After two docs, we returned home to cap the night with Superior. Director Erin Vassilopoulos previously collaborated on a short film of the same name with twin sister actresses Alessandra and Ani Mesa. The feature version sees the sisters reunited after six years of separation. Vivian (Ani Mesa) stayed in their small town and married straitlaced Michael (Jake Hoffman). Meanwhile, Marion (Alessandra Mesa) learned to play guitar, joined a band, and is touring the world. She returns to her hometown after trying to leave her abusive husband Robert (Pico Alexander). Apart, the twins had assumed their own identities. Once reunited, they start to look and act alike again, even as one sister tries to uncover the secrets the other is keeping.

Once again, the David Lynch influence is strong with Superior. This time, instead of the psychedelic inner explorations of Twin Peaks: The Return, whose influence is all over the narrative competition field, Vassilopoulos channels the queasy sexual charge of Lost Highway. The Mesa sisters are mesmerizing as they take an identity-swapping Persona turn on neo-noir.

Miya Cech stars as Sammy in Marvelous & The Black Hole

Tonight, the final night of Sundance screenings at the Malco Summer Drive-In kicks off with Marvelous & the Black Hole, by Adventure Time and Steven Universe writer Kate Tsang. Newcomer Miya Cech stars as Sammy, a troubled young girl who meets an unlikely mentor in the magician Margot, played by Rhea Perlman.

Larry Krasner in Philly D.A.

The final film of Sundance’s first foray into Memphis is documentary Philly D.A., directors Ted Passon and Yoni Brook’s story of civil rights attorney Larry Krasner’s 2017 run for district attorney of the city he sued more than 75 times.

To buy tickets for the final night of Sundance in Memphis, go to the Indie Memphis website.