Movies

Michael Fassbender shines behind mask in charming ‘Frank’

If Michael Fassbender wears a giant papier-mâché head for most of a film, is he still mesmerizing? Happily, yes: In Irish director Lenny Abrahamson’s delightfully odd dark comedy “Frank,” the actor captivates as the art-band frontman of the title, whose “thing” is never removing his wide-eyed cranial costume.

Based somewhat on the true story of British artist Chris Sievey, the film’s seen from the perspective of Jon (Domhnall Gleeson), a mediocre keyboardist unexpectedly recruited into the band — its name is the willfully absurd “Soronprfbs” — after their original guy tries to drown himself.

The remaining members are none too happy at Jon’s inclusion, especially imperious theremin player Clara (Maggie Gyllenhaal, performing with relish and a bowl haircut), who all but hisses at him whenever they cross paths. She sees Jon as a threat to Soronprfbs’ artistic integrity, and she’s not wrong: While the band (played by Scoot McNairy, François Civil and Carla Azar) toils away glacially on a new album at a secluded cabin in the woods, he’s secretly chronicling their progress on YouTube and Twitter. Frank himself remains above the fray, speaking kindly if enigmatically to Jon through the mesh panel in the front of the head, and encouraging him to write his own tunes, awful though they may be.

Maggie Gyllenhaal and Domhnall Gleeson star alongside Fassbender in the quirky flick.Magnolia Pictures

Abrahamson’s film explores a number of worthwhile questions about the nature of art: For whom is it created? Does adapting it for an audience constitute selling out? Where’s the line between genius and mental illness, and can a commercially oriented sensibility ever happily coexist with one focused on pushing boundaries?

Though fictionalized, the film feels of a piece with a couple of like-minded music documentaries: “Dig,” about the feud between the Dandy Warhols and the more out-there Brian Jonestown Massacre, and “The Devil and Daniel Johnston.”

But “Frank” is a surprising ride in its own right, and truly touching when the story behind Frank’s head comes to the fore. I’m not sure Fassbender’s ever appeared more vulnerable, even in “Shame.” Whether flailing awkwardly in front of an expectant South by Southwest concert crowd or, finally, revealing what’s beneath the mask and why, he’s a reminder that sometimes fiercely talented, misunderstood artists aren’t really in it for the applause.