Review: ‘Power Ballad’ is a sincere ode to why music matters
2026 / Dir. John Carney
Rating: 4/5
Watch if you like: John Carney movies, power ballads (specifically one played over and over again), and leaving a bunch of half-formed and unorganized song ideas on your computer.
Power Ballad is the Avengers: Endgame of the John Carney Cinematic Universe—not only because of the explicit callbacks to his previous films and the presence of Paul Rudd, but because it brings together so many of the chords the writer-director has been strumming on screen for two decades.
Rudd stars as Rick Power, a washed-up rock star who had some success in the ‘80s and ‘90s but now fronts a cover band called The Bride & Groove that plays small weddings around Dublin, where Rick has lived for 15 years after settling down with his Irish wife and daughter. One of the band’s gigs brings them to a fancy estate, where boy-band pop star and friend of the groom Danny Wilson (Nick Jonas) goes viral singing with the band. Rick and Danny then bond during an all-night jam session, during which Rick plays one of his unfinished songs that Danny later takes for himself and turns into a Coldplay-esque power ballad “How to Write a Song (Without You)”, which becomes a global sensation.
It’s an interesting conceit, and one that forces Power—and the audience—to reckon with so much of what life, especially in middle age, can throw at you: what kind of person you’ve become and how it differs from what you expected, what meaning or lack thereof your work has given you and others, how easy it is to take your friends and loved ones for granted. These are weighty themes, but they’re carried through by Carney’s bone-deep sincerity (bordering on schmaltz), cheeky humor, and musical populism that have been embedded in his filmography since his home-video-style indie Once went big twenty years ago.
Paul Rudd and Nick Jonas sound like a random duo to lead a feature film, but I found them an inspired pairing. Consider me surprised and impressed by Jonas’s acting chops and dedication to the different emotional beats required throughout the film. Rudd leans into dramatic earnestness but also weaves in his I Love You, Man goofy charm (including his “slappin’ da bass” showmanship that’s a perfect fit for a wedding band frontman) as he navigates a turn in the story that completely recontextualizes the meaning of his music, and even the value of creativity itself. (Parents, prepare for tears.)
Just like its music, Power Ballad won’t be for everyone. If you’re not already a Carney fan, your best bet is to see this in on a big screen with a crowd so, as with a concert, you can check your cynicism and cell phone at the door and surrender yourself to a communal experience that just might have you eyeing your guitar, paint supplies, or other creative work when you get home.