Director Report Card: Edgar Wright (2021) - Part One

7. The Sparks Brothers

Music, obviously, plays a huge role in the films of Edgar Wright. “Baby Driver” was so built around its soundtrack that it was practically a musical. He's also a director clearly overflowing with knowledge and interests. His movies are dense with callbacks and references, suggesting the kind of enthusiasm Wright has for his favorite subjects. It was probably only a matter of time before these two elements combined and the director made a rock documentary. This is why I was not surprised, in 2018, when it was announced that Wright was going to make a doc about Sparks. For three years, the untitled project lingered on Wright's IMDb page, in production but seemingly unmoving. Finally, last year, it was announced that the movie, now called “The Sparks Brothers,” was done and awaiting release. It would get a surprisingly wide release last June.

Sparks is a band that has been recommended to me probably fifty times over the years. Considering I love seventies glam rock, eighties synth-pop and New Wave, and lots of music that can generally be described as "quirky," they definitely seem like a band I'd probably like. Yet, until a few months ago, I had never heard more than one or two Sparks songs in my entire life. I think their small role in "Rollercoaster" was probably my biggest previous exposure to them. Knowing I'd be reviewing this documentary soon, a few months back I endeavored to make myself a Sparks appreciator. I tried to do a deep dive through their discography. However, I only got a few albums in because I realized something: I don't think I like Sparks that much. To be brutally honest, I find Russell Mael's falsetto vocals kind of annoying. The songs, at least the ones on those first few albums, felt theatrical at the expense of rock energy and catchiness. 

And so I went into Wright's documentary as a Sparks skeptic. The film is an exhaustive tour through the band's fifty year history. It tracks Russel and Ron Mael's origins, as brothers raised by a widowed mother in California. It shows us the formation of their first band, Halfnelson, which would soon be discovered by Harry Nilsson. After their first record flopped, the band would be renamed Sparks. Slowly, but surely, they began to develop a cult following, with the brothers even managing to become teen idols in 1970s England. They have continued to make music ever since, experimenting with different styles, attracting critical acclaim, and influencing countless other artists. 

Speaking as someone who has yet to be blown away by any of Sparks' music, I'll say that Wright's film at least makes me understand the band's appeal. The Mael brothers certainly have a memorable stage presence, with Russell's golden retriever energy contrasting against Ron's totally deadpan stiffness. (Best exemplified by his surreal, ironic choice of a Charlie Chaplin/Hitler mustache.) The film emphasizes over and over again that each Sparks songs tells a story, their lyrics exuding a playful sense of humor. Yes, there is a musical theater style excess to much of their music, which I understand appeals to many listeners. I still don't know if their music for me but I can say I at least get it now.

The opening minutes of "The Sparks Brothers" emphasizes how mysterious the central duo is. Russell and Ron answer a series of basic questions, revealing that they are Americans and brothers and all that stuff. As the movie goes on, we certainly learn plenty of things about their relationship and lives. How both men stick to a daily routine and how easy and natural it is for them to work together. Yet I left "The Sparks Brothers" wishing it gave us a little more insight into their creative process. We only get a glimpse of how they write and compose songs. What the music and lyrics mean is mostly left up to the various fans of the band — which includes members of Depeche Mode, New Order, Erasure, Visage, Weird Al, Patton Oswald, and Wright himself — to define. 

Instead of exploring their creative dynamic, Wright mostly devotes the film to walking us through the band's history. There's certainly lots of amusing or interesting stories from the road here. Such as an early show where Russell accidentally cracked his head open with a hammer on-state. Or a notable TV appearance when a gaggle of shrieking teenage girls stormed the stage, which includes an interview with the lady who planted a big hug on Ron. Yet you'd think a band that had been around for so long would have more stories of strife and intensity. The film certainly makes it seem like the Mael brothers mostly avoided your typical rock star excess. The only peek into their romantic lives we get is a mention of a brief relationship Russell had with the Go-Go's' Jane Wiedlin. 

Not that I demand every rock documentary get into the tawdry aspects of the musicians' life. But it might've spiced things up here a bit. "The Sparks Brothers" paints the main conflict of the band's existence as their lack of mainstream success in America, always floating between being cult favorites and major rock stars. There's only so many times you can hear the statement "fans and critics love them but they've never quite broke through with the public" reframed before it ceases to be interesting. Wright sometimes even glosses over very dramatic situations in favor of a chronological deep dive that covers the typical ups and downs of a long-running act. A lot more tension and conflict could've been mined from a series of concerns Sparks did a few years back, where they performed all of their albums live on a series of subsequent nights. 

Something that is interesting is the clear cinematic quality of Sparks' music. It's easy to see why the band would be such a favorite among directors like Wright. Their music is clearly driven by narrative and a movie-like sense of editing and genre shifting. They also made a whole album inspired by Ingmar Bergman. It's unsurprising to learn that, multiple times over their careers, the brothers have attempted to collaborate with different filmmakers. In the seventies, they kicked around a mysterious project with Jacques Tati. They spent five years developing a musical adaptation of the manga "Mai the Psychic Girl," with Tim Burton, that was ultimately doomed. Showing how up-to-date this doc is, the movie mentions in its last third that Sparks finally got to make a musical, "Annette" with director Leo's Carax, which would actually be released just a few weeks after this documentary. But I would've liked a little more insight into all of these projects, which are largely only mentioned in passing. 

Many retrospective documentaries have to struggle with the fact that they are largely made up of interviews. People talking directly into the camera isn't very cinematic, unless you're Errol Morris. Like many documentarians before him, Wright tries a number of different techniques to make sure this isn't just a series of talking heads. There's a number of quirky animated interludes, made through a number of different mediums. Cut-out paper animation, claymation, and traditional animation are used throughout to bring various anecdotes to life. While the archive footage is usually in color, the interview segments are usually in black-and-white. This partners well with a silent movie style interlude early on. Wright also resorts to putting song titles and lyrics on-screen whenever a particularly notable number is brought up. 

Try as he might to keep "The Sparks Brothers" from simply being a series of interviews, that's mostly what it is. The film lines up a number of high-profile interviewees to gush about how much they love the band and their music. This grows tiresome pretty quickly, especially since the non-stop praise is spread across a two hour and twenty minute run time. "The Sparks Brothers" also generates that extensive length by running through every single one of the group's twenty-five records. While some of these releases are detailed more than others, not a single one is left undiscussed. This approach eventually becomes exhausting and makes "The Sparks Brothers" feel more like a Wikipedia entry than a documentary at times.

It should be apparent that "The Sparks Brothers" will be most enjoyed by die-hard fans of the band. If you love them, you'll probably love this. And if you're a Sparks agnostic, like myself, you'll probably walk away still wondering what the big deal is. Out of all the songs highlighted, I only heard three or four I'd be interested in listening to again, like the undeniably catchy "Beat the Clock" and "When Do I Get to Sing My Way?" Either I'm too pretentious or not pretentious enough to be a Sparks fan. If a similar film is ever made about a weirdo musical act I adore, like Devo or Barnes & Barnes, I would probably love it. Wright certainly does his best to make the documentary as broadly appealing and interesting as possible. There were definitely moments when I enjoyed it. Yet his insistence on covering every turn of their career, as well as filling the movie with too many interviews with adoring fans, left me thinking "The Sparks Brothers" is less an introduction to the duo and more of a celebration. [Grade: C+]