God bless Jason Fine for being a friend Brian can trust and for creating this peek into his life. I watched this on a trans-Atlantic flight and had plenty of time to pause, rewind, and repeat segments that piqued my interest. Overall I loved the pacing and details wrapped inside this documentary, and as a journalist myself, I could understand Fine's style of questioning. But after awhile it seemed that this was less of a conversation between two friends and more of a "mobile interview" for the cameras. Granted, that had to be done to create the documentary and cue things up for clips, but when Brian reveals that he's often scared and that Fine's voice helps calm him down, you want Fine to reciprocate by letting down his guard and being more compassionate.
Nowhere was I waiting for this more than in the segment when Fine tells Brian that a mutual friend had died. Brian is at first shocked and, as the news sinks in, begins crying softly. Instead of pulling the car over, getting out, and asking Brian if he wants a hug so Brian can cry it out and process his emotions, the drive continues and the tone of the dialogue is as cold as if he had told him he'd found a quarter in the street. You feel Brian's pain as he is left grappling with the news on his own. It seemed to be the perfect place to forgot the roles of interviewer/subject and reveal some compassion for your friend. That's a feeling that lasts each time you see Brian -- you want to reach through the screen and give him a hug just to help alleviate his turmoil..
Aside from that indelible moment (and missed opportunity), Long Promised Road is a wonderful introduction into the life and mind of an extraordinarily resilient man. If there was a magic wand that could restore someone's mental health, Brian Wilson would be the perfect candidate. For all he's gone through and all he's given, he deserves it.
