Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.
CP: Dear Mother of Lord, Rick: When has such sunny pop music arisen from so dark and tortured a psyche?
RN: I know. One of the many lessons that I took away from seeing the totally absorbing "Love & Mercy" was that "Fun, Fun, Fun" really wasn't, at least for Beach Boys savant Brian Wilson.
CP: You've got to hand it to Bill Pohlad, the Minneapolis director, for refusing to deliver anything close to a standard music biopic.
RN: Yeah, "The Doors," it's not. Thank goodness.
CP: I kept expecting more depictions of brilliantly crafted chart-topping songs — instead we got more spooky episodes of schizo–affective disorder.
RN: And brilliant period clothing. For the 1980s segments, costume designer Danny Glicker gave Elizabeth Banks a spot-on Sue-Ellen-Ewing-at-Southfork look, and Paul Giamatti's slimeball of a character appeared as if he haunted the clearance racks at Chess King.
CP: Banks may have resembled a Barbie doll, but her grit and determination in rescuing the famous singer (played later in life by John Cusack) was pure Clint Eastwood. As Dr. Eugene Landy, Giamatti's monstrous manipulation of Wilson was scary to behold, as was his flyaway California hairdo.