In telling the story of a songwriter struggling after achieving considerable success, I Can Only Imagine 2 (now on Starz) draws some unwelcome parallels to the considerable success of I Can Only Imagine. The 2018 film chronicled the rise to Christian-rock glory of the band MercyMe, specifically its founder Bart Millard, whose song “I Can Only Imagine” became a crossover mega-hit in the early 2000s. The film became a crossover hit too, grossing $86 million, extraordinary for an independent release. The sequel follows a similar track, telling the story of another MercyMe hit, “Even If,” and the movie’s $19 million gross unfortunately reflects how attempts to replicate lightning-in-a-bottle success are frequently unfruitful.
The Gist: It’s more like MiseryMe for Bart (John Michael Finley) these days. Ten years ago, his young son Sam ended up hospitalized in a coma, and diagnosed with type-1 diabetes. Now, in whatever year this movie is set (2016ish?), Sam (Sammy Dell) is a sullen teenager who resents his dad for being gone on tour all the time — and when Bart’s home, he constantly nags Sam to monitor his blood sugar levels. Their bumpy relationship is exemplified by the fact that Bart is a famous songwriter and musician, and Sam watches YouTube videos to learn how to play the ukulele. It’s thrown Bart into a depression, and he can’t help but draw comparison to his own father’s failings, flashing back to scenes from the first movie in which his old man (Dennis Quaid) was an abusive POS.
As for MercyMe, the main draw of their big tour went kaputskies, pushing them into the headliner slot, a decade after “I Can Only Imagine” delivered Heaven on Earth by hitting no. 1 and raking in awards and acclaim and putting the Millard family — Bart, Sam, wife/mother Shannon (Sophie Skelton), four other miscellaneous barely acknowledged children — in a big sprawling home in Texas. A decade is several lifetimes in the music business. Nobody will forget the big hit, but coasting on it has Bart unsettled. Pressure’s on. Manager Scott Brickell (real-life country star Trace Adkins) shoves him in the tour bus, and Bart’s more than happy to leave his domestic troubles behind and engage in road therapy, because singing about Jesus and such heals all ills, theoretically anyway. Scott also suggests they bring Sam along. Bart pushes back, but the kid and his mother are both gung-ho about it so now Bart has to manage the insulin and praise the Lord every night.
Then we meet the opening act, Tim Timmons (Milo Ventimiglia), and be grateful for that, because he’s upbeat and enthusiastic, counterpoint to Bart, who tends to whine a lot: “Why’s it gotta be so hard?” he moans to Scott, who probably should tell him to go to therapy-therapy, because Bart can’t hear us shouting that piece of advice at the screen. To be blunt, Tim is awesome. He hits it off with Sam, who plays with Tim on stage to goose the one-guy-with-an-acoustic-guitar presentation. Meanwhile, Bart probably should be writing new songs, but he ain’t. Tim has one and asks Bart to help, but Bart kinda shrugs it off until Tim shares that he has a rare form of cancer. Then Bart takes the demo CD and proceeds to feel bad about not listening to it. Now, there’s an arc to this story, I just know it. But it’s kinda hard to find and possibly in the possession of the least interesting character in the movie, namely, Bart. But hey, he wrote “I Can Only Imagine,” so maybe we should give him the benefit of the doubt that this particular bumpy stretch of his life is worth its own feature film?
What Movies Will It Remind You Of? I Can Only Imagine 2 is essentially the story of a man who’s sad and becomes less sad in a vague and dramatically inert manner. That’s remarkably similar to Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere, which is essentially the story of a man who’s sad and becomes less sad in a vague and dramatically inert manner, but hey, at least he was Bruce frickin’ Springsteen.
Performance Worth Watching: Ventimiglia provides the burst of energy the movie desperately needs. Oh, and he probably should be the main character since he’s the genesis of the new song that “saves” Bart from being a brooding bummer with a gently sagging career.
Sex And Skin: None.
Our Take: I Can Only Imagine 2 falls prey to the faith-based movie template requiring the deployment of earnestness by the metric ton. It sidesteps other genre cliches by rendering the dramatic character arcs dull and repetitive, qualities typically applied to biblical proselytizing. It also fails to justify itself by following up the extraordinary story of Millard’s personal and professional triumphs with a dreary slog through simplistic psychology. The film handwaves away plot details that might make it hang together better because it focuses on the movie’s least interesting character, represented by Finley’s hazy, poorly defined performance. We also have to endure dialogue exchanges such as, “I’m worried I might break him.” “Or he might fix you.” Overwritten nonsense engineered to be profound on paper, but klutzy as a drunken duck in execution.
This leaves us yearning for more Ventimiglia, whose portrayal of Timmons is that of a man who’s encouraging, uplifting, and grateful for the seemingly limited time he has left on this planet. But this character is done a grave disservice, employed as a plot device, a catalyst for Bart’s attitude adjustment, which I risk belittling by calling it an attitude adjustment. Chronic depression is serious, especially if it goes unacknowledged, but the movie’s simplistic portrayal of it suggests that writing a minor hit song will make deep-seated childhood issues and existential fears go away, praise the lawd.
The lesson of Imagine 2 might be the following: Perhaps forcing heavy-duty gravitas into nearly every moment of a movie is a bad idea, considering how it dilutes the narrative and leaves us breathless in between the phony, overproduced uplift of the musical performances and Bart’s constant, empty internal struggles. It can only imagine this being a much more compelling, much less boring movie.
Our Call: I remain convinced by none of this, although MercyMe devotees may find more substance among this dramatic chaff. SKIP IT.
John Serba is a freelance film critic from Grand Rapids, Michigan. Werner Herzog hugged him once.
