Beach Boy biopic a good movie - and a not-as-good movie

THE BRIAN Wilson biopic "Love and Mercy" may wind up being one of the best half-movies of 2015.

That's right. Half-movies.

The first recounting of the tortured genius' life, sanctioned by the 72-year-old "Mozart of Rock" himself, ping-pongs between two periods. One is the mid-'60s, when Wilson composed and produced some of the greatest and most sophisticated pop of the rock era (e.g. the groundbreaking single "Good Vibrations" and the equally monumental "Pet Sounds" album).

The other period is 20 years later, when Wilson met his current wife, Melinda, while a virtual prisoner of Eugene Landy, a psychologist of dubious credentials and even worse ethics.

The scenes depicting Wilson's 1960s artistic peak are painstakingly recreated glimpses of a brilliant musician in the throes of obsessive creativity. The subject matter and the restaging of specific events are fascinating, especially for the more music-involved among us.

But these episodes are especially enjoyable both for their insight into Wilson's motivations and the people who pushed and pulled him as he created such enduring works. Those include the almost supernaturally brilliant "God Only Knows," which Paul McCartney reportedly has claimed as his all-time favorite song. (We learn in the film that Wilson saw himself in a sonic arms race with the Beatles.)

And we are introduced to the personalities who encouraged and opposed Wilson during this time. On one side was his small posse of supporters, including the influential, if generally unknown, composer-pianist-producer Van Dyke Parks, and the fabled studio musicians collectively known as the Wrecking Crew, who understood that they were making music history. (Uber-drummer Hal Blaine was Wilson's most emphatic cheerleader.)

On the other side were Wilson's father and onetime Beach Boys manager Murray (Bill Camp), an apparently unhinged martinet who physically and emotionally abused Wilson even as the latter entered adulthood. (In later years, Murray's fury was fueled by his dismissal as the group's business chief.)

There was also Beach Boy Mike Love (Jake Abel), who vehemently pleaded with Brian Wilson to keep writing the sunny, bouncy tunes with which the band first made its name and money.

These segments are marked by a crispness and energy on both sides of the camera. As the younger Wilson, Paul Dano ("Little Miss Sunshine," "12 Years A Slave") is eminently watchable and believable. He captures the intensity and drive of an artist struggling to translate the sounds in his head onto recording tape.

And director Bill Pohlad ably captures those drug-fueled, world-changing times, as well as Wilson's unique, if somewhat damaged, personality. These scenes have plenty of snap, crackle and pop.

However, things sag a bit when the action switches to the 1980s. To be sure, Wilson's time under Landy's control was incredibly dramatic and moving. Landy's power over Wilson was complete, encompassing even the most mundane situations. Landy achieved this, in large part, by overmedicating his charge (on top of Wilson's years of using LSD and other illegal substances).

This part of Wilson's life is well-trod territory, although "Love and Mercy" does change the dynamic somewhat by putting Melinda Wilson squarely in the spotlight. But Pohlad's direction here gets a little squishy, as does the serviceable script by Oren Moverman and Michael Alan Lerner.

As the latter-day Wilson, John Cusack turns in a competent performance that seldom strikes sparks (then again, the Wilson he portrays is a near-zombie thanks to Landy's ministrations). However, Cusack fails to physically inhabit Wilson to any convincing degree.

Elizabeth Banks, whose career is skyrocketing these days, serves up a nuanced, believable performance as the loving, nurturing Melinda.

It's not surprising that this part of the tale is saved by the always-dependable Paul Giamatti as Landy, who died in 2006. The veteran character actor is at the top of his game, playing his subject as a thoroughly despicable, likely sociopath.

In Giamatti's able hands, Landy comes off as one of the most chillingly evil film villains since Sir Laurence Olivier's Nazi dentist in "Marathon Man." And quite possibly the creepiest.

So, see "Love and Mercy" for the musical part of the story and Giamatti's stellar turn, and deal with the rest as best you can.

Blog: philly.com/Casinotes