Review of Crazy Heart
The moment Bad Blake steps out of his beat-up station wagon in "Crazy Heart" he's got a bottle in his hand.
It's not a bottle of booze. That will come soon enough.
It's a bottle of pee, a gallon jug he's used to relieve himself on the long drive from one lousy gig to another.
That's how life is for Bad, a veteran country singer-songwriter whose career is near as battered as his aging body. He's been reduced to playing bowling alleys and remote bars, held back by his stubborn attitude, a fuzzy sense of "real" country idealism and more bottles of whiskey than he can count or remember.
But as played by Jeff Bridges, Bad is still inspired, at least when he's onstage and not completely snockered. And despite his wandering, cynical, booze-riddled ways, he's still capable of love.
He finds this out when he meets up with Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal), an aspiring journalist who talks him into an interview just a while before he talks her into bed.
At first it's a long-distance sometime fling. But then as Bad spends more time with Jean and her young son, Buddy (Jack Nation), he and she start to think it's maybe something more.
"Crazy Heart" has two things going for it that lift it above your standard country drunk redemption story.
The first is Bridges, who seems to ooze Bad Blake from every pore -- his strengths and weaknesses, his irresponsibility and sorrow, his enthusiasm and plain stupidity.
Bridges is always a surprisingly natural actor -- heck, he even seemed natural playing an unnatural alien in "Starman." But here the dust of the road and the stench of the drink and thrill of the stage and the ache for love are palpable.
The other thing the movie has going for it in a big way is its music, presided over by T-Bone Burnett.
Since Bridges is the one singing and performing the music -- again with such an ease you'd swear he's been playing honky tonks all his life -- this becomes something of a career peak in a career with many peaks.
He doesn't do it alone, of course. Writer-director Scott Cooper, adapting Thomas Cobb's novel, shows a steady if unspectacular hand in guiding the film's somewhat predictable arc. And Gyllenhaal is in usually fine form. Toss in Robert Duvall as Bad's friend and conscience and a surprising Colin Farrell as a Bad protégé gone big and you've got a nice group effort.
But still, they're all playing beneath Bridges, as they should be. The movie is nothing but another drunk's story without him.
At age 60, Bridges has four prior Academy Award nominations and no wins. This should make it five and one.
Oscar loves abuse and redemption stories, Bridges has been one of the best and most unheralded actors around for four decades and it's hard to imagine he'll find a better role than this one in the coming years.
Then again, "Crazy Heart" is the sort of film that makes you think he just might. It's a bit too easy, a bit too familiar, and maybe even a bit too much fun. But the magic Bridges brings to the screen makes it all work.
It's not a bottle of booze. That will come soon enough.
It's a bottle of pee, a gallon jug he's used to relieve himself on the long drive from one lousy gig to another.
That's how life is for Bad, a veteran country singer-songwriter whose career is near as battered as his aging body. He's been reduced to playing bowling alleys and remote bars, held back by his stubborn attitude, a fuzzy sense of "real" country idealism and more bottles of whiskey than he can count or remember.
But as played by Jeff Bridges, Bad is still inspired, at least when he's onstage and not completely snockered. And despite his wandering, cynical, booze-riddled ways, he's still capable of love.
He finds this out when he meets up with Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal), an aspiring journalist who talks him into an interview just a while before he talks her into bed.
At first it's a long-distance sometime fling. But then as Bad spends more time with Jean and her young son, Buddy (Jack Nation), he and she start to think it's maybe something more.
"Crazy Heart" has two things going for it that lift it above your standard country drunk redemption story.
The first is Bridges, who seems to ooze Bad Blake from every pore -- his strengths and weaknesses, his irresponsibility and sorrow, his enthusiasm and plain stupidity.
Bridges is always a surprisingly natural actor -- heck, he even seemed natural playing an unnatural alien in "Starman." But here the dust of the road and the stench of the drink and thrill of the stage and the ache for love are palpable.
The other thing the movie has going for it in a big way is its music, presided over by T-Bone Burnett.
Since Bridges is the one singing and performing the music -- again with such an ease you'd swear he's been playing honky tonks all his life -- this becomes something of a career peak in a career with many peaks.
He doesn't do it alone, of course. Writer-director Scott Cooper, adapting Thomas Cobb's novel, shows a steady if unspectacular hand in guiding the film's somewhat predictable arc. And Gyllenhaal is in usually fine form. Toss in Robert Duvall as Bad's friend and conscience and a surprising Colin Farrell as a Bad protégé gone big and you've got a nice group effort.
But still, they're all playing beneath Bridges, as they should be. The movie is nothing but another drunk's story without him.
At age 60, Bridges has four prior Academy Award nominations and no wins. This should make it five and one.
Oscar loves abuse and redemption stories, Bridges has been one of the best and most unheralded actors around for four decades and it's hard to imagine he'll find a better role than this one in the coming years.
Then again, "Crazy Heart" is the sort of film that makes you think he just might. It's a bit too easy, a bit too familiar, and maybe even a bit too much fun. But the magic Bridges brings to the screen makes it all work.
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posted by Tom at
6:52 AM
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