Mark Reviews Movies: THE SPARKS BROTHERS

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Review by Mark Dujsik | June 17, 2021

Director Edgar Wright clearly loves the band Sparks, formed by brothers Ron and Russell Mael way back in the late 1960s and still writing, recording, and performing to this day. Such longevity from a musical act is rare, and in the case of Sparks, it seems even rarer. Their popularity has ebbed and flowed throughout the decades, having a few singles and albums reach or even top the charts in various countries, but even devoted fans of the group would likely agree that it would be a stretch to call Sparks "popular" by accepted and/or mainstream standards.

That's the appeal for the group, it seems, if Wright's indulgently adoring documentary is any indication. The filmmaker interviews assorted people throughout this movie, including the Mael brothers, famous musicians, songwriters for other famous musicians, several actors, a couple writers, and even himself, in a rather distracting turn (Does Wright really need to come on camera to inform us of his admiration for the band, when the whole of the documentary is doing just that?).

All of them agree: Sparks is a great, unique, and ever-evolving band, and they've influenced every, single one of these interview subjects in one form or another. They also agree that the band isn't for everybody—or even fans of a single song or album at any point in Sparks' career. The brothers, with Russell as the front man and Ron as the primary songwriter (as well as a vaguely menacing presence on stage), did and still continue to do whatever appeals to them at any given moment. One either accepts that fact or almost certainly fails to accept Sparks.

The Sparks Brothers was made by and for those who do accept and fully embrace the band. Wright doesn't set out to convince anyone of anything about Sparks, beyond the truth and sincerity of his bona fides in knowing and loving the band.

In that regard, the filmmaker does make a convincing case that he's as knowledgeable and curious about Spark as anyone else in the world. Fans of the group might enjoy seeing their musical history thoroughly detailed in a single movie. For everyone else who might know a Sparks song or two or none at all, this documentary exists to tell us that we missed the boat and can only watch this celebration from the distant shore.

One of the appeals of the band, apparently, is that so little is actually known about its creators. Against a blank wall and in black-and-white (as all of the interviews here are conducted—an initially striking but quickly bland touch), actor Jason Schwartzman, one of the many interviewees Wright has assembled, worries about watching the director's movie once it's completed. He doesn't want to know too much about the Maels, lest their mysterious allure dissipate from even a hint of biographical information. Some of the talking heads are convinced the brothers are from the United Kingdom, and even after learning the two were born and raised in "sunny California," a few the interviewees refuse to believe that.

They were, though, born and raised in Los Angeles, as a briefly personal biography, recited by the Mael brothers themselves, explains their childhood interests and the tragedy of the their father's death when the two were still young. Their mother thought music might help, and the rest, as the man said, is history. Everything personal is definitely history, since none of it ever comes up again.

There is this strange sort of start-and-stop pacing to Wright and editor Paul Trewartha's assembly here, as each section of the Maels' story seems to close the book on the whole of it. It's a minor detail, although one that points toward the piecemeal information we do receive from this movie.

The Maels are mostly forthcoming, although they're clearly playing toward the enigmatic aura they've developed professionally over the decades (A rapid-fire question-and-answer session at the start has the two being intentionally vague and playfully sarcastic, such as how Ron answers how he and Russell know each other—having just answered, "We are brothers," to the question of if they're brothers—by repeating, "We are brothers"). Most of their narration, though, amounts to a series of anecdotes from the various periods of their career.

Wright goes through that career in meticulous, chronological order with plenty of archival footage, as the Mael brothers tell their story, former band members show no hard feelings for being left behind (They admire the brothers' artistic drive), and the famous interviewees lavish praise and swoon over Sparks in their assorted phases of musical purpose. Any time the subject of one of the band's more popular songs arises, Wright gives us a one-two-three punch of different famous folks—from Beck to Mike Myers, from Flea to Patton Oswalt, from "Weird Al" Yankovic to Neil Gaiman, etc.—saying how much they love that particular song.

The approach is hollow and repetitive, which makes sense as a feature-length fan letter but ultimately betrays the whole point of presenting Sparks as the dynamic, innovative, and influential band everyone here claims that they are. That's not a slight against Sparks, because we can't deny the multiple testimonies here, but it is one against The Sparks Brothers.

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