There are many things to enjoy about the unconventional new Brian Wilson biopic “Love & Mercy,” so let’s start with the obvious one: the music. Not only does director Bill Pohlad concentrate on 1966 to 1967, the most adventurous and fruitful period of The Beach Boys’ career (“Pet Sounds,” “Good Vibrations,” “Smile”), but he actually shows the artist at work in the studio.

A good story is built on conflict, so many rock biopics focus only on the melodramatic parts of a musician’s life, skipping over or simplifying any serious examination of their music, which is the real reason they warrant a movie in the first place.

In “Love & Mercy,” Paul Dano plays a young Wilson at the peak of his creative powers, directing an orchestra of older, more experienced L.A. session musicians through multiple takes until they can produce the sound he’s hearing in his head. (It’s a kick to see the musicians portrayed by actors so soon after seeing their own dedicated documentary “The Wrecking Crew,” released earlier this year.

Unfortunately for Brian, those aren’t the only things he’s hearing in his head. There are also the “voices,” which started around 1963, he says.

Pohlad, working from a script by Oren Moverman and Michael Alan Lerner, conjures up blissful behind-the-scenes moments of Wilson’s pure creative ideation, counterpointing them with the accompanying crippling moments of self-doubt that plague any artist.

In Wilson’s case, the physical manifestation of this doubt was his overbearing and jealous father. Because of a unique parallel structure that also interpolates Wilson’s creative high-water mark with his mental health struggles in the 1980s, these moments are deepened — and laced with the kind of sadness that his beautiful songs traded in so memorably.

John Cusack plays Wilson in the 1980s, under the sway of therapist Eugene Landy (Paul Giamatti), who keeps his client in a state of pharmacological confusion — “for his own good.” Giamatti does what he can with the least-subtle part of the film. It’s obvious the doctor has ulterior motives even before it’s discovered that he’s getting songwriting royalties and is a beneficiary in Brian’s will, but Landy’s character still seems underwritten.

Cusack, who bears little physical resemblance to Dano, grows nicely into the Wilson part as the film progresses, and his interaction with car salesman-turned-girlfriend (and later wife) Melinda Ledbetter (Elizabeth Banks) is the heart of the film.

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Banks has never been better. There are countless savior clichés that could have tripped up her performance, but she approaches her role with an honest emotional integrity. When Brian casually drops big revelations on her (like the beatings his father used to give him), the horror registers in her eyes, along with her compassion.

The film reaches some of the delirious highs and lows of Brian Wilson’s music in part because it accompanies almost every scene. Even when the myriad finished versions and multi-track sessions aren’t being played or performed, Brian is sitting at the piano, or Atticus Ross is incorporating parts of his music into the haunting score. This has to be the best-sounding movie ever made, and like Brian Wilson himself, it’s full of naked emotion, while still retaining an air of mystery.

“Love & Mercy” is playing at several theaters in Kansas City and is rated PG-13 for “Thematic Elements, Language, Drug Content,” although I’m pretty sure “love” and “mercy” are the two biggest thematic elements, and I’m not sure why they would require a PG-13 rating.

Heaven Adores You

Another revered songwriter who remains somewhat of a mystery is the late Elliott Smith.

The documentary “Heaven Adores You,” playing at Liberty Hall at 7:30 p.m. Sunday, June 14, is more an archival exploration of the man’s music than a true biography. The expected interviews of friends and colleagues are interspersed with landscape shots of cities Smith lived in, and as might be imagined from the title, the movie takes a reverential tone throughout.

Like Wilson, Smith had an unusual talent for aching melodies and wearing his heart on his sleeve. 104 minutes of his music, accompanied by just about anything, is time well spent.

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The Cure in Orange

In conjunction with the upcoming Free State Festival in Lawrence, Kansas City’s Alamo Drafthouse Mainstreet is presenting “The Cure in Orange” in 35mm.

This 1987 concert film presenting the cult rock band in its heyday, had a limited theatrical run when originally released, but has only been available on VHS and laser disc up until now. It features 23 songs from a two-night performance in a French theater, and has been out of print for decades.

Spy

Why is the big Hollywood release for this week at the bottom of my column? Perhaps it’s indicative of my general sense of disappointment in the wasted potential on display.

“Spy” is writer/director Paul Feig‘s third outing with star Melissa McCarthy and although there are plenty of funny moments early on as the two lampoon the guys-only world of James Bond, the film runs out of steam quickly and devolves into cheap jokes and inane plot developments that alienated me from its initial charm.

Had “Spy” been a short film with nothing but co-star Rose Byrne and Melissa McCarthy trading insults with each other for 15 minutes, it might have worked better. As it is, it’s another uneven McCarthy vehicle. Feig has a great concept on his hands — the superstar secret agent who’s actually an office drone — and given the money it is poised to make, he’ll probably get to write a sequel. Let’s hope he can follow his character-driven instincts and leave the discount humor for the Adam Sandler/Kevin James movies.

“Spy” is rated R for salty language throughout, violence, insulting sexual humor and some brief, desperate graphic nudity.