Power Ballad

Part of my coverage of the 13th Chicago Critics Film Festival

POWER BALLAD   ***

John Carney

2026

IDEA:  Following a chance encounter and jam session with former boy-band idol Danny Wilson, wedding singer Rick Power discovers that Wilson has stolen his song and turned it into a massive hit.

BLURB:  “This song changed my life.” The line, spoken by resurgent pop star Danny Wilson, comes at a point in Power Ballad when it carries a few different meanings. All these meanings can be traced to the thesis found throughout John Carney’s films thus far: that music has incalculable emotional and social power. Even more, though, the polysemy of the line is a reflection of how songs change meaning depending on context — who plays them, where they play, and perhaps most importantly, who’s listening. “How to Write a Song (Without You),” the cleverly titled earworm at the center of Power Ballad, puts this to the test, raising questions about authorial intent versus audience reception that Carney leaves generously open. Although he draws a pretty clear dichotomy between family man Rick Power’s working-class Ireland and bachelor Danny’s glitzy LA (represented rather clumsily through stock footage), the film doesn’t take a stance on the tune that transports between these disparate worlds. “How to Write a Song” is alternately or simultaneously cheesy, banal, heartfelt, kitschy, stirring, and catchy as hell; it can be played to a mostly empty shopping mall, a small wedding crowd, or a sold-out arena. The poignancy of the song as created by Rick — and the immature opportunism of Danny’s plagiarism — snap into focus at the end of Power Ballad, but the truth doesn’t invalidate the meaning(s) Danny’s version holds for his legions of fans. When the default is to be cynical about the state of popular art, Carney remains a jubilant romantic who teaches us how to hear a song, not a commodity.