My Comfort Blanket Movie: Music and Lyrics | Little White Lies

In Praise Of

My Com­fort Blan­ket Movie: Music and Lyrics

24 Apr 2020

Two people, a woman and a man, engaged in conversation at a desk.
Two people, a woman and a man, engaged in conversation at a desk.
Sophie Monks Kauf­man sings the prais­es of Marc Lawrence’s pop hit of a rom-com from 2007.

There are some films you watch when you need a warm hug from a famil­iar source. There’s no new ter­rain to explore, no out­side world, no alarms and no sur­pris­es – they are sim­ply sooth­ing. Since a glob­al pan­dem­ic was declared on 11 March, dai­ly life has become so strange that the solace offered by com­fort blan­ket movies is enhanced. In this series, we want to cel­e­brate them, in what­ev­er form they take.

I will own, from these open­ing bars, that I have a pen­chant for Hugh Grant. His brisk wit always sets a strong march­ing beat. He blanch­es the sen­ti­ment from a line so all dia­logue is served bone-dry. His neat, slight­ly Bas­sett hound, good looks are both thirst-quench­ing and creamy, like a Solero, licked up in pri­vate. My feel­ing for him are akin to a pop star groupie, there­fore I am per­fect­ly sus­cep­ti­ble to the role he plays in Marc Lawrence’s Music and Lyrics.

Alex Fletch­er was a huge heart­throb in the 1980s thanks to the suc­cess of his band PoP!. He is now washed-up. As the film opens, he is invit­ed to appear on a TV show called Bat­tle of the 80s Has-Beens’. That’s not quite right. The film opens on the full video to one of PoP!’s great­est hits, PoP! Goes My Heart’. It is a sen­sa­tion, a tri­umph, a beat-per­fect homage to a par­tic­u­lar­ly 80s aes­thet­ic, sound and sensibility.

Hugh shakes his butt with gus­to, occa­sion­al­ly throw­ing out a know­ing grin. He has flop­py hair. All of the band wear tight white trousers. Inter­cut with footage of them leap­ing around and play­ing instru­ments to flashy edits, is a sto­ry­line in which Alex has a slow-motion heart attack after his girl­friend leaves him. In the hos­pi­tal, a doc­tor shakes his head sad­ly. They couldn’t save him. But then a hot nurse comes in and PoP!’ goes his heart. Every­one dances.

Amaz­ing­ly, the rest of the film lives up to this slick joyfest of an open­er. Drew Bar­ry­more with her sun­ny SoCal earnest­ness is the per­fect foil and even­tu­al love match for the now jad­ed and terse Alex. She plays Sophie Fish­er, a promis­ing writ­ing stu­dent burnt by an affair with an exploita­tive old­er teacher, now seem­ing­ly con­tent to work at her sister’s weight-reduc­tion cen­tres and do odd-jobs, like water­ing plants – which is how she meets Alex!

Alex is under pres­sure as he’s been offered the chance to write a song for pop sen­sa­tion Cora (Haley Ben­nett) who is big­ger than Brit­ney and Christi­na put togeth­er” with only a few days to prove him­self bet­ter than the oth­er song­writ­ers com­pet­ing for the gig. Alex knows how to write music, but not lyrics. Sophie, as it turns out, is a born lyricist.

Two people wearing headphones, recording music in a studio.

A melody is like see­ing some­one for the first time – the phys­i­cal attrac­tion, sex, but then as you get to know the per­son, that’s the lyrics, their sto­ry, who they are under­neath. It’s the com­bi­na­tion of the two that makes it mag­ic.” So says Sophie at their first late-night writ­ing session.

The won­der­ful thing about Music and Lyrics is that it’s a pop hit of a rom-com that deliv­ers both ele­ments of the craft, with the bonus sat­is­fac­tion that, because Alex and Sophie are writ­ing a love song, they are fore­shad­ow­ing their own sto­ry. Way Back Into Love’ is the title Cora gave them, and as both their back-sto­ries emerge it’s clear they have been liv­ing, as Sophie’s lyrics go with a shad­ow overhead”.

Even though the melody of the film is famil­iar, the lyri­cal atten­tion to detail sweeps you up in sur­face plea­sures. Haley Bennett’s Cora is a glo­ri­ous cre­ation. Her brand of sexy, scant­i­ly-clad danc­ing is inspired by East­ern reli­gion. The max­i­mum amount of joy, rel­ish and com­mit­ment has been chan­nelled into cre­at­ing an ambi­ence of dead­pan absur­dism when­ev­er she’s around. To whit: amid dry ice Cora emerges out of a giant revolv­ing gold Bud­dha at her Madi­son Square Gar­den show. She throws off a cape to reveal mere sparkles cov­er­ing her mod­esty. Every­one screams. The Bud­dha keeps revolv­ing in the background.

In con­trast with this man­i­cured lithe megas­tar, Alex and Sophie look more lived-in. Their clothes are nor­mal, they are allowed to look rum­pled, their stakes seem plau­si­ble. While the romance arc is patent­ly a con­fec­tion, the way it unfolds is so con­stant­ly delight­ful that I always find some­thing new to chor­tle at. Sup­port­ing char­ac­ters are well cast, with moments afford­ed to let them shine. Jokes are Russ­ian dolls, with lit­tle jokes inside the big­ger ones, such as when Alex, danc­ing at a school reunion, puts his hip out while gyrat­ing, but has to quick­ly recov­er a smile, and wave to fans as he sits winc­ing on the side­lines. Dur­ing all of this the face of his man­ag­er (Brad Gar­rett) is telling the whole sto­ry in a series of expres­sions that could have made him a silent star.

There’s a moment in a café when Alex is defend­ing the mer­its of pop music to Sophie, who is dis­miss­ing it in con­trast with lit­er­a­ture. He says, You can take all the nov­els in the world and not one of them will make you feel as good as fast as… I got sun­shine on a cloudy day. When it’s cold out­side, I got the month of May…’” Well, friends, I got sun­shine on a cloudy day. It’s called Music and Lyrics, and it’s here to stay.

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