UNDERAPPRECIATED BAND SPARKS GETS THE DOCUMENTARY TREATMENT
Near the end of Edgar Wright’s delightful documentary “The Sparks Brothers,” a loving, lighthearted tribute to the 50plus years that brothers Ron and Russell Mael have spent making some of the best music you’ve probably never heard, Amy Sherman-Palladino comes on and starts talking about the brothers’ mystique, saying that they’ve given us the music and that’s all we need.
And it hits me for the first time: I’ve spent more than two hours watching a documentary that has revealed little to nothing about its subjects’ personal lives ... and I don’t care! I don’t need to know whether Ron and Russell have ever been married. (As of 2008, apparently not.) I don’t need Ron to expound on whether he was jealous when Russell got all the girls, including, briefly, Jane Wiedlin of the Go-Go’s. (If you’ve never heard their
song “Cool Places,” this movie will introduce you to it and also the easy-to-emulate dance moves that Molly Ringwald used years later in “The Breakfast Club.”) How did Ron feel about all those Hitler mustache comments? Did Russell want him to shave it off ? Uncharted
territory.
What Wright does explore, in detail, is the band’s musical legacy, 25 (mostly) glorious albums ranging from art-pop to anti-pop, synth-powered dance-pop, glam bubblegum, new wave and odd orchestral, the only constants being a skewed wit and constant reinvention. If you listen closely, you learn enough about the brothers Mael, picking up hints of loneliness amid the focused ambition that has produced one of the most interesting and inf luential careers in pop music.
Wright tells Sparks’ story with the same energetic style he employed in narrative films such as “Baby Driver” and “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World,” using all manner of techniques — stop-motion and 2D animation, re-enactments and stylish, black-and-white interview segments with the Maels, along with a trove of similarly shot testimonials from fans like ShermanPalladino, Flea, Beck and Neil Gaiman — to keep the band’s history zipping along. Wright appears, identifying himself as “fanboy,” which made me laugh, as I seem to remember Wright telling an interviewer that his agent wasn’t particularly happy that he was devoting a couple of years of his career making a documentary about a cult band.
But that’s the kind of passion this band brings out. It helps that the brothers have an appreciation of cinema and know the value of a good image. In clip after clip, Russell, the Cute Sparks, pingpongs across the stage, jaunty and joyful, while Ron mostly sits fixed at his keyboard, glaring into the camera. (Nobody has a better scowl, partly because it’s clear Ron’s in on the joke.)
Wright begins the story with the brothers’ Los Angeles roots and then marches through every album they’ve recorded. Does that sound exhausting rather than exhaustive? (Or both?) It isn’t, thanks to the cleverness of the filmmaking and the quality of the interviews.
If you care about Sparks, this movie is heaven.If you don’t know about Sparks, Wright has created an introduction that gleefully demolishes any barrier you might think you have toward their music. And if you think you don’t care about Sparks, do know that there’s an upcoming movie called “Annette,” featuring an original story, music and songs by the band. It stars Adam Driver and Marion Cotillard and will open the Cannes Film Festival next month.
So, yeah, not a bad time to get up to speed on Sparks.