“Power Ballad” pairs Paul Rudd as a Dublin wedding-band singer who still believes he can write great songs with Nick Jonas as a mainstream pop veteran who turns their collaboration into something bigger—and more contentious. The film, co-written by John Carney
By the time Rick (Paul Rudd) comes out of his musical reverie, the moment has already slipped away. He’d been in the middle of an encore at a wedding. playing an original tune. only to mentally transport himself to an arena packed with swaying fans. Then the spell breaks—he’s left staring at an empty dance floor. watching faces that say the truth without apology.
This is the gap “Power Ballad” keeps returning to: the distance between what a musician feels in his head and what his audience receives in front of him. Rick is an American musician who gave up on his rock band’s future to live in Dublin with his wife (Marcella Plunkett) and his teenage daughter (Beth Fallon). His former group was called Octagon. He now fronts the Bride and the Groove. delivering the kind of entertainment weddings require—songs with the right familiarity. the right timing. the right lift.
Then, at a wedding at a castle, the band is asked to let a friend of the newlyweds sit in. The Bride and the Groove reluctantly agree. On stage steps Danny (Nick Jonas), a very popular boy band veteran. He sings Stevie Wonder’s “I Wish,” and it lands—hard enough that Rick’s earlier dismissiveness begins to crack. Rick had dismissed Danny’s music as “manufactured content for young. excitable teens. ” but Danny proves he’s a genuine musician.
The night follows a pattern that feels like fate: Danny’s presence changes the room, and the room changes Rick. Later, when Rick bumps into Danny, they quickly hit it off. Jamming together turns into sharing songs that need work. The two are so energized by the unlikely collaboration that they play into the next morning.
Carney’s gift has always been capturing the feeling of music changing people. “Power Ballad” leans into that again. centering not just the performance. but the creative act itself—the moment when ideas come alive and the craft behind them is visible. One of the unfinished songs Rick plays for Danny. “How to Write a Song (Without You). ” becomes the movie’s centerpiece. not just because of the title. but because of what it’s about: creative invention.
The question starts to take shape right after that early surge. Where is the story headed? A beautiful friendship? A real shift in Rick’s life? A new songwriting duo that might lift Rick out of weddings and into something bigger—proving to the world that Danny is more than a boy-band pretty face?
The movie answers in its own way, but with a jolt. “Power Ballad. ” which is co-written by John Carney and Peter McDonald (who also co-stars as a band member). shifts six months ahead. Rick is standing in a shopping mall when the familiar lyrics of “How to Write a Song” softly float through the stores. At first he’s dumbfounded. Then the feeling changes: his confusion curdles into outrage as Danny’s smash hit grows.
That’s where the film’s sweetness develops an edge. It loses some of its steam in the second half, which follows Rick’s struggle for justice. Making that fight harder is the absence of a recorded demo of the song. His family and his band don’t even really believe him. The movie’s earlier faith in collaboration—music as something shared and shaped in real time—collides with the messy world of credit. proof. and power.
The broader tension can’t be separated from Danny himself. Jonas is a former boy band star who has at times gone it alone. and the film uses that connection to thread its theme: tussles over authorship are increasingly common in contemporary music. Danny’s ambition doesn’t make him pure villain. He’s good in other films—“Jumanji” movies included—but this is his most ambitious and convincing performance to date in the eyes of the film’s own story arc.
Still, Danny’s rise comes with pressure. He’s under mounting pressure from his label to deliver a hit. An executive (Jack Reynor) wants “Danny 2.0” but has little faith he can supply it. Danny becomes the kind of character who can’t afford to fail—so the theft isn’t just a moral lapse; it becomes part of a system that rewards momentum over truth.
That’s also why Rudd’s role lands so cleanly. He has a history playing goofily lovable characters—he memorably and very goofily played a bassist in the 2009 comedy “I Love You. Man.” In “Power Ballad. ” he sings well. but it’s not his musical chops that lift the performance. It’s what the script gives him: a contented family man with unrealized rock-star dreams. someone so genial that the story can ask him to fight for something without making him unlikable. Rick is built to be the everyman—the one you want to root for because he’s earnest without being naïve.
Carney’s abiding belief sits underneath the plot’s bruises: no matter the struggles. the artistic injustices. and the corporate hegemony. the film insists that if you make something truly soulful. it will break through. “Power Ballad” seems to admit that it might be harder than it was when “Once” made its case for music’s redemptive power. The world may be against you. But what one person can offer—“a ballad or otherwise”—still has power. Fairy tale or not, that idea is the film’s emotional engine.
“Power Ballad,” a Lionsgate release in theaters Friday, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association for “language throughout and some drug use.” The running time is 108 minutes, and the film is given three stars out of four.
Power Ballad Paul Rudd Nick Jonas John Carney Peter McDonald Beth Fallon Marcella Plunkett Danny Bride and the Groove Rick music movie review