Owen Gleiberman Chief Film Critic When you sit down to watch a documentary about the Beach Boys, you know what you want: to be immersed in the California dreamin’ of the group’s early surfin’-hit days, in the jaunty beauty of songs like “I Get Around” and “Help Me Rhonda,” and in the story of how Brian Wilson began to figure out a way to turn pop songs into miniature symphonies.
You want to be immersed in the recording of “Pet Sounds,” in the Beach Boys’ rivalry with the Beatles, in the derailed masterpiece that was “Smile,” and in how Brian’s mental and emotional problems began to tear himself and the group apart.
You want to know how the other Beach Boys, caught in the wilderness, found a way to put the group back together, though it’s almost like they became a different group.
You want to see the Beach Boys’ saga told in all its sublimity and fragility, from L.A. to “Holland,” from Van Dyke Parks to Manson, from “God Only Knows” to “Kokomo.” “The Beach Boys,” co-directed by Frank Marshall (who made the 2020 music-doc milestone “The Bee Gees: How Can You Mend a Broken Heart”) and Thom Zimny (who’s directed about a thousand Springsteen videos), accomplishes all of that nicely.
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