Directed by Brent Wilson (no relation)
Starring Brian Wilson and Jason Fine
Runtime: 93 minutes
In Theaters and on VOD November 17

by Ashley Jane Davis, Staff Writer

“When you get scared, what do you do?” – Brian Wilson

I have listened to the same music as your dad for my entire life. Not casually or ironically, but truly, madly, deeply. This is who I am. One memory I treasure is going to Music World with my best friend 20 years ago when we were in high school. I was looking for a CD by my guy Bri and was enchanted by the fact that whoever printed out the sticker label for the artist divider card spelled his name as BRAIN WILSON. I loved it so much, I took a photo with my yellow and black disposable Kodak camera, to keep forever. But really? The typo makes sense.

When my li’l brain tries to comprehend the music this human has created – dreamed up, arranged, performed – it wants to just hibernate in wonderment eternally. I’ve had an intense interest in Brian for decades. Honestly, be thankful if you did not know me in 2004 when Beautiful Dreamer: Brian Wilson and the Story of SMiLE came out. If you think this review is annoying, imagine me forcing you to watch every second of Van Dyke Parks footage four thousand times. So, it’s an understatement to say that I was excited to watch the new documentary, Brian Wilson: Long Promised Road, directed by Brent Wilson.

The general premise of this documentary is that we are invited on an intimate journey through Brian’s career as he reminisces with Rolling Stone editor and long-time friend, Jason Fine. As always, there is also a host of interviews with seemingly random famous music folks, but the good news? No Mike Love. That’s a little victory there. But anyway, is it worth checking out? What if you already know a lot about Brian Wilson?

This documentary has a lot of very special moments, I promise. Even for fans like me who have read it all and seen it all, there are wonderful gems you haven’t seen before. There are moments of fun and joy, like seeing the exact drive to Brian’s house described in the song “Busy Doin’ Nothin’” (I was positively gleeful in this moment). There are moments of poignancy, like when we sit with Brian as he listens to Dennis’ Pacific Ocean Blue album for the first time with so much pride. There are moments of hurt where we ponder over the harsh psychological war that men like Brian’s father Murry Wilson, and former therapist, Eugene Landy, waged with Brian. And there are moments of love and loss, especially where Brian recalls his special relationships with brothers Carl and Dennis. For me, this film really shines in the love and loss department.

The chemistry between Brian and Jason Fine is beautiful, and the reason to watch this documentary. In those moments, especially when they drive around haunts from Brian’s past and listen to music, it is reminiscent of the recent series McCartney 3, 2, 1 that I raved about on MovieJawn. Of course, it’s not perfect. It couldn’t be. Personally, I do not care one bit about the famous person talking heads stuff. Like cool, Jakob Dylan, love that you love Brian too. But Brian and Jason? Because of these moments, I am officially covering over all the things I don’t like about the film. It’s okay that once we hit Pet Sounds era, the timeline jumps all over the place. It’s okay that we see a lot (too much) of Bruce Springsteen and Nick Jonas for some reason. It’s worth it.

One thing that I seriously had thought about a LOT ever since I heard this documentary was made, is “why Long Promised Road”? That is the name of a song that I LOVE that has a chorus (a 3-chord run in particular) I have, not figuratively, but legally married… but it was written by Carl Wilson, not Brian. When the song is finally addressed in the doc for the first time, we get Brian saying, “oh, I did the ‘ba ba, ba ba’ part. I wrote that.” Okay. I’m a littleee protective over my fave brother (and certified sweet baby angel) Carl, so this is a choice I actively disliked. But then the song returns later in the film, and my ugly music snobbery melts. My SNOBBY SWEATER protecting my intensely sensitive heart unravels and right there in front of us we sit with one of the most moving scenes I have ever witnessed on film.

As Brian and Jason drive around listening to “Long Promised Road”, Jason mentions that former collaborator Jack Reilly had died years earlier. Brian is genuinely stunned. Watching Brian talk through his shock and grief in real time before being overwhelmed and seeking out his comfort tune (“It’s OK” from 15 Big Ones) made me cry. Then in another scene, “Long Promised Road” plays again as they stop outside Carl’s old house. Brian stays in the car and wipes away tears as Carl’s voice swirls around the car stereo. It is emotional. We get the feeling that Brian still struggles with his deep emotions. He worries about what people think of him. He worries if Pet Sounds is “manly enough”. He talks about the loneliness and darkness he has experienced and realizing he is adding one more name to a long list of folks he loves who have died is quite sad. But the way Brian uses music to not only express but also process his emotions is incredibly endearing, and something I wholly identify with.

My absolute number one favourite song as a child was “Here Comes The Night” from the album Wild Honey. I remember quietly loving that it sounds fun at first, but then morphs into a kind of nightmare. When the chorus descends into this ghostly atonal chanting bit that is claustrophobic and steeped in paranoia, it feels to me like Brian’s shadow self is peeking out. I L-O-V-E the contrast. I live for moments like this – they are like a spell grabbing at me to love and embrace the darker sides of myself too. Phew, whaddya say, Carl Jung?

The film has a definite air of sadness about it, and I wouldn’t want it to be any other way. Truth be told, I have always loved Sad Brian songs the most. They have been, and now I cannot stress this enough, CRUCIAL to my survival. Okay but, I’m not exaggerating! That nightmare chorus rocked me to sleep as a kid every night. Or take “I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times”. Even though the lyrics aren’t Brian’s, “Sometimes I feel very sad,” is a truth also embedded in his music. “A Day In The Life Of A Tree”? “’Til I Die”? UGH. It’s always there, maintaining the balance in an existence where it’s impossible to have sun every day.

Knowing the darkness inside Brian is essential to understanding his art. Yes, there is the famous story of Brian never leaving his bed for years, obsessively listening to “Be My Baby” (so what, who wouldn’t?). As they drive around Brian’s old Bellagio Road neighborhood, Jason asks Brian about that period. “Everyone always says you stayed in your bedroom for years - you didn’t really do that,” he says. Brian shrugs and says, “Nah, a couple weeks.” And there we have it, folks. Legends love to paint artists as these tragic figures helplessly trapped by inner demons and addictions, destined to destroy themselves. Sometimes they lose, sometimes they win. Sometimes the battle never ends. The final title card sums it up so well, “Brian Wilson’s struggle with mental illness continues to be a part of his daily life. Despite this, he continues to tour and record new music.” Like so many, Brian faces his demons every day. We get the sense that Brian is still quite lonely. He misses many folks he loves and used to work and play with. But he is still here. Music is a part of him, and a way he shows love and finds joy.

This joy is present in the scenes with Brian in the studio with his faithful group of supportive musicians, still plugging away and creating new art. There was even a song written and recorded just for this documentary, “Right Where I Belong”.

Brian Wilson is one of the most important artists in my life. If you love Brian too, you just gotta see this. The moments where we feel his childlike vulnerability, just chatting about music and life with someone he obviously trusts, feel like catching up with an old friend.

Please enjoy my personal Brian (Brain) Wilson mix, which I tried to keep to not super obvious picks. (ONLY BW written tunes, and I’ll tell ya, there are no surfin’ songs! “Surf’s Up” doesn’t count as a surf song.)