Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

Irish filmmaker John Carney is no stranger to pairing music and cinema. Since breaking out with 2007’s Oscar-winning Once, Carney has delivered a string of musically-tinged gems, including Flora and Son and Sing Street. With Power Ballad, Carney recalibrates his approach with an intimate and surprisingly fun take on chasing dreams. Paul Rudd and Nick Jonas are on onscreen duo that have a surprising amount of chemistry, especially when the adjacent paths of their flawed characters cross. Juxtaposing two polar opposite performers with technically similar skillsets, the plot finds intriguing parallels between their journeys. Early on, there’s an interesting point made in regards to the tastes of a younger generation: “manufactured content.” Why are the feel-good staples still on a regular rotation at weddings and parties if the modern stuff appeals so succinctly to the masses? Is rock really dead? Can music that speaks from the genuine, raw parts of ourselves still find a way to cut through the veritable noise? Darkly comedic, musically splendid, and narratively complex, Power Ballad soars through the singular voice of John Carney.

Rick (Rudd) has long ago left behind his dreams of making it big and performing on the Madison Square Garden stage. He used to be in a real group, but now he just jams out as the lead singer of Ireland’s grooviest wedding band, The Bride and Groove. He decided to settle down and have a kid with a respectable Irish woman, and now the three live happily, coexisting as Rick often hits the road for wedding gigs. While dreams may be buried, they rarely are snuffed out completely. In the extended opener, Rick enthusiastically goes into a song off his solo album, imagining himself as a huge star in a fantastical dash of wish fulfillment. In reality, Rick’s wedding reception crowd doesn’t connect to his solo schtick. Right material, wrong place? Or just altogether wrong? As the clever script from Carney and co-writer Peter McDonald establishes the status quo, we also meet Rick’s bandmates. Bestie Sandy (McDonald) takes a shine to Rick, practically connected to him at the hip. McDonald steals scenes as the fiery Sandy, especially in later scenes involving a Les Paul guitar.

The story kicks off during a clandestine performance of “I Wish,” wherein Rick and his crew bring boyband graduate Danny (Jonas) onto the stage. Danny just happens to be in town for the wedding of a childhood friend, positioning him to cross paths at the castle-set reception. As Danny, Jonas plays a version of himself that’s a little suaver, a touch more open, and a lot less successful. There’s an immediate stage presence to Danny’s showy vocal range, but he graciously pairs with Rick, transforming Stevie Wonder’s tune into a rousing duet. It feels like a big movie moment, and Carney lets their first encounter unfold organically. A natural shift—and a shared joint—leads Rick and Danny into a freeform jam session in Danny’s massive suite. If Danny gives popstar energy, Rick delivers an authenticity that vitally lacks in some of the material Danny shows off. Rick unveils a personal song he has been workshopping for years. Danny requests help on a chorus hook. Is Rick just tossing some “paprika” on Danny’s music, or is he making more than a mini-contribution? The two connect brilliantly.

One gifted vintage guitar and five months later, Rick overhears an overly familiar tune playing in the mall. Could that be… his song? Rick’s intimate tune has been hijacked into a smash hit with millions of views. By all means, “How to Write a Song (Without You)” has become a viral sensation. Seeking legal council, Rick may soon find that proving any ownership over the song may be nearly impossible. Even Rick’s wife and daughter have trouble believing he penned it. From here, Power Ballad highlights viewpoints from both Rick and Danny, the latter of whom may be more of a puzzle than he initially appears. The countless songs always rise to the forefront of the narrative, punctuating important moments, and serving as transition pieces in others. The trademark stolen one is incredibly catchy, and worthy of so much attention within the movie itself. Every track on here impresses, featuring a full soundtrack destined for constant replay. Both Rudd and Jonas sing several tunes, including multiple iterations of “How to Write a Song (Without You).”

Paul Rudd and Nick Jonas are both exceptional. Rudd’s Rick receives more emotional depth, whilst Jonas’s Danny has the flashier, practically villainous role. Eventually, the script calls for Jonas to tap into his funnybone, a task he has done before (see: Scream Queens, Jumanji), whilst for Rudd, comedy is practically second nature (Anchorman, Wet Hot American Summer). Likewise, Rudd manages to hold his own in vocal prowess against Jonas, who has decades-spanning, Grammy-nominated expertise in that arena. Their respective strengths find a unique balance in the opposing nature of their characters. As Rick struggles mentally and emotionally with his stolen song playing practically everywhere, Danny’s career thrives as he finally finds the solo success he has always craved.

Carney taps into concert energy, delivering banger after banger. The tone isn’t as serious as Once, instead opting to embrace the comedy space off the charismatic charms of its lead actors. It does get emotional when deconstructing the true meaning of legacy and success. What is the ultimate price of ambition? Carney seems to find a careful balance on the topic, somewhere between the sugary-sweet vocals and equally adorable messaging. A feel-great crowd-pleaser, Power Ballad will leave viewers humming every contagious harmony.

Power Ballad rose to riveting success when it screened at 2026’s Norwalk Film Festival. Don’t miss it in theaters everywhere on Friday, June 5th.

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