Music movie formulaic, but funny

John Carney is a one-note writer-director, and I mean that in the good way. The Irish filmmaker likes to tell stories about the redemptive possibilities of music, in such projects as Flora and Son, Sing Street and the hugely popular, much loved Once.

His new dramedy (co-written with Peter McDonald) is a wee bit formulaic but still manages to be low-key funny in its comedy and gently melancholy in its drama. It’s a little underwritten with its themes of creativity and authenticity, but still pulls off a sweet, sincere and generous emotional vibe.

In fact, Power Ballad is a lot like the musical showdown it chronicles, caught between raggedy indie grit and catchy, crowd-pleasing riffs.

These opposing tones sometimes clash — especially in the confused second act — but thankfully Carney can rely on the endless, easy charm of star Paul Rudd to keep things going.

Rudd plays Rick Power, an American musician living in Dublin with his Irish wife, Rachel (Marcella Plunkett), and their daughter, Aja (Beth Fallon). Though he once had big dreams of playing Madison Square Garden, he now fronts a popular wedding band.

The band is first shown delivering solid, workmanlike versions of party hits, before Rick’s insistence on playing his original material empties out the dance floor. “We’re not rock stars,” a bandmate reminds him. “We’re human jukeboxes.”

Rick is basically having a midlife crisis — though this being Rudd, even his midlife crisis has a fresh-faced appeal.

Meanwhile, musician Nick Jonas, known as “The Cute One” in his Jonas Brothers days, plays Danny Wilson, a (more or less) grown man still carrying the burden of his boy band past. Granted, it’s a burden cushioned by Ferraris, private planes and a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, but still.

Danny wants to break away from his lightweight image, but he’s struggling creatively. His Los Angeles agent tells him he needs to deliver a label-approved solo hit — and soon — or he’ll end up “eating bugs on a reality TV show.”

These two guys, representing two different ends of the music world, come together at an Irish wedding where Rick’s band is playing and Danny is attending as a childhood friend of the groom. They end up in Danny’s luxury suite for a drunken jam session — bonding, talking and sharing music, including a song Rick has been working on for years.

Then they go their (very) separate ways.

Six months later, Rick is at a suburban shopping mall when he hears Danny’s version of the song he wrote, all zhooshed up with corporate-pop production values.

Carney follows this with side-by-side tracks of the men, with Danny walking the red carpet and rocketing up the Billboard charts, while Rick sits in his cramped, dark office with its Alice in Chains posters, becoming increasingly embittered and obsessed by his stolen song.

As we head toward Danny and Rick’s inevitable faceoff, Carney looks at issues of art and commerce, the cost of celebrity, and the true meaning of success. Power Ballad covers some of the same ground as the Bradley Cooper/Lady Gaga iteration of A Star is Born, except — as we so often see with Rudd — the dynamic is more of a bromancey, I Love You, Man kind of thing.

Rudd’s performance has enough self-aware edge to suggest fame and fortune were never a realistic possibility for Rick. And Jonas — who, like his character, wants to reinvent himself — is able to explore some darker dimensions of Danny.

But the script tends to pull back at key moments. Carney is good at raising questions, but he tends to settle for pat answers.

Maybe Carney is too conflict-averse. Or maybe he just passionately believes in the power of music to solve problems and bring people together. When everybody is singing in the film’s emotional final scene, I’m ready to go with that.

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