So it's not brilliant. In fact, at times it is positively leaden (especially when it tries to get meaningful about the nature of music, art, and reality). But at other times (the Pop video, the 1987 high school reunion, any scene with Cora, dinner at Rhonda's), it is highly entertaining, hitting just the right romantic-comedy-in-the-twenty-first-century balance of we-all-know-what's-going-on humor and affection. Plus it's Hugh and Drew, being quintessentially Hugh* and Drew**. In fact, it's hard to believe nobody ever thought to put them together before, given how neatly their archetypes mesh. Best of all, I saw it in the theater with M who thoroughly enjoyed it, marking another successful step in my ongoing quest to turn M into a movie-going companion.
* Remote man transformed by the love of an earthy ditz. See Four Weddings and a Funeral, Love Always, It's a Boy.
** Earthy ditz grounded by the love of a transformed good man. See 50 First Dates, The Wedding Singer, Boys on the Side, etc. (This would, of course, be post-exploitation flix Drew, which would be post-child star Drew, but we love them all--and I know I have blogged my love for both Hugh and Drew before, but, like so many of my blog posts of the past, it is just too hard to find, and I'm not [quite] sure whether I've ever blogged my love for Wham and George Michael, but know that it's there, deeply, and you will understand why I couldn't not enjoy this movie).
Note: My dear old friends Jane Dark and run run revolution would consider Music and Lyrics an execrable exemplar of the dregs that are the American movie industry, which is why we agree to love each other and not discuss certain topics.
Note to note: I tried to fit commodity capitalism into that sentence, but I must point out that the only product placement I noticed was Baldwin pianos, which is pretty good, though JD and rrr would, of course, point out how meaningless the overt commodity is in the face of the insidious music-industry-business-is-business-but-love-still-conquers-all thematic, to which I would respond, so what, I still like it, which is why, as I said, we just don't discuss it.
Note to note to note: Yeah, yeah, yeah, Foucault, whatever.