Daniel Radcliffe’s solemn commitment makes this cheerfully fabricated music biography worth an evening. Eric Appel sustains the silliness longer than expected, though the repeated genius jokes could have used a firmer cut.
Weird: The Al Yankovic Story is a good joke sustained for a little longer than it needs, with a lead performance that keeps finding reasons to continue. Eric Appel, who directs and co-writes with ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic, takes aim at the music biography’s familiar progression from misunderstood talent to thoroughly overestimated celebrity. Their invented account is affectionate towards its subject without asking us to worship him. We recommend it for that cheerful lack of dignity, and for Daniel Radcliffe’s refusal to acknowledge anything ridiculous about the assignment.
Daniel Radcliffe gives the musician enough earnest enthusiasm to make his growing self-regard entertaining. His precise lip-syncing helps sell the musical conviction, while his performance preserves the awkwardness beneath the swagger. We laughed at the seriousness he brings to the accordion, because he makes this improbable claim to pop greatness seem entirely reasonable to the man making it. He never seeks our permission to look foolish, and that confidence allows the film to push its exaggerations further than a knowing performance would permit.
The celebrity-filled pool party is a useful measure of what Eric Appel gets right. Ross Riege’s cinematography and Dan Butts’s production design make its pop surroundings feel important enough for entry to count as an achievement. There are famous faces to recognise, but the pleasure comes from watching this eager musician inhabit their company as though he has finally found his proper place. The gathering gives the film room to make jokes about who belongs, who gets noticed and how easily recognition can be mistaken for proof of genius.
Evan Rachel Wood makes Madonna a welcome presence, pitching her performance broadly enough to belong in the same invented universe. She gives the impersonation an energy that helps when the writing threatens to settle for the pleasure of recognition alone. The music by Zach Robinson and Leo Birenberg is effective in supporting the characters’ exaggerated sense of their own importance. That seriousness matters to the comedy: the actors are already giving us ample reason to laugh, without needing musical instructions to find them ridiculous.
The trouble is repetition, and it matters more than the occasional weak gag. Once the film has established that everyone must treat this unlikely pop figure as a genius, further declarations of his importance bring diminishing returns. Jamie Kennedy’s editing gives the early scenes a briskness that the later stretches cannot maintain. The escalating absurdity supplies plenty to do, but the script too often assumes that making a joke larger will make it fresh. At 108 minutes, the film leaves several opportunities for a tactful trim.
The film’s generosity helps when the jokes thin out. Plenty of spoofing depends on treating its subject as an idiot; Eric Appel and ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic let us enjoy this musician’s enthusiasm even as they make his self-image absurd. That gives Daniel Radcliffe something to play beyond a collection of borrowed biopic poses, and keeps the affection from becoming another excuse for solemn admiration. Choose it for the performance and the straight-faced foolishness, provided a few jokes repeated past their useful life will not spoil the evening.
