Ten years ago, director John Carney brought out the inspiration, heart, and heartbreak of music in Sing Street. His latest film follows those familiar sensations, but for a different time in life. While Sing Street dug deep into the youthful inspiration to start a band and find love, Power Ballad delves into the fears of getting older, becoming irrelevant, and losing sight of passion, with a desire to recapture that magic. All of it goes down in a way that doesn’t feel like the routine of the washed-up musician, focusing more on where to go when the place we can never return to.

Two generations of musical talents converge at just the right time. Rick Power (Paul Rudd) is a singer who has settled for family life in Dublin, reducing himself to a band that plays weddings rather than concerts. Danny Wilson (Nick Jonas) is a former boy band member struggling to make his solo career take off. They cross paths at a wedding where they perform together, and an immediate connection forms as they blend their voices for a classic song about the good old days. Their love of not just singing music but also writing it comes out at their private afterparty, where they sit around drinking, writing, and jamming all night long. There’s no scrutiny from audiences that want to hear the same songs or producers who demand something better. It’s just two dudes connecting over guitars and pianos in a rather charming and intimate session.

Their fateful meaning takes a dark turn as Rick reveals too much of himself with his personal song “How to Write a Song (Without You).” In Danny’s desperation to maintain his lavish lifestyle, he gives Rick’s song a shot, and it turns out to be the perfect love song. Taking the form of a hit single, Rick feels betrayed by his most heartfelt song being stolen. It’s all the more heartbreaking that he can’t find any recording of his work in progress, and his family and bandmates can’t recall the lyrics. Nobody believes Rick, and it’s enough to drive him mad, threatening his enduring romance with his wife, Rachel (Marcella Plunkett), his daughter Aja’s (Beth Fallon) patient acceptance, and his faithfulness to his simple pal, Sandy (Peter McDonald).

A story like this could easily go astray by centering on Rick’s frustrations with his personal song being ripped from his heart. In a quiet moment, Rick gives his dismissive daughter a listen to his latest project, and she confesses that songs about falling in love are more appealing for old people. When Rick asks what the new generation of teens likes to hear about, she gives the amusing answer of “revenge.” Indeed, this could very much turn into a story of revenge, especially when Rick decides to track down Danny in Los Angeles. The quest, however, turns out to be less about revenge and more about the need to be honest, with a greater emphasis on addressing the phony nature of fame on a more internal level.

Paul Rudd fits like a glove into this story, where he can effortlessly be funny without trying too hard for a laugh, but also comes off like a musician who has a love of the craft. This is crucial, considering how inauthentic he could come off going up against Nick Jonas with his boy-band background. Their musical scenes together are engrossing and sweet as they try to figure out what they want to express, sharing their fears and passions. Those moments work so well that there’s genuine heartbreak when the betrayal comes, and a friendship is broken. Rick’s real friends and his family become a greater source of strength, even with his regrets about never achieving his dream of playing at Madison Square Garden. All of this manages to be heartfelt and hilarious without relying on the goofy antics that could befall a picture featuring a car crash, some fistfights, and a tumble off a roof.

Power Ballad finds more of the rousing spirit in music beyond the vibrant voices, cool guitars, and a longing for rock ‘n roll. Carney’s staging of music might be debatable for staging the #1 love song in the world, but there’s no denying the heaps of humanity he places behind the notes and lyrics. It’d be impressive enough to frame Rudd and Jonas as equal musicians, but finding the joy and soul of that art in the process makes this film so much cozier than I expected. It is a wonderful film for the way it doesn’t embrace the obnoxious divide between generations in music, but still has some honesty about the passage of time, as when Rick’s band struggles to figure out boy-hands with him admitting, “Are we stoned or just old?” We can be old and stoned, but still make connections over music that comes more from the heart than a label.