Crazy Heart Review
Posted by Erik Luers on 01.16.2010
"I fell into a burning ring of fire..............."
Jeff Bridges ... Bad Blake
Maggie Gyllenhaal ... Jean Craddock
Colin Farrell ... Tommy Sweet
Robert Duvall ... Wayne
Jack Nation ... Buddy
Scott Cooper's new film, Crazy Heart, is a poignant, often moving American look at the love (and lacktherof) between fathers and sons. It's a movie about family mistakes, regrets, and redemption. Occasionally, I found it flirting in the realms of schmaltzy melodrama (without luckily ever succumbing to it), but the film most importantly strives on getting our lead's daily life, as pathetic and tiresome as it may be, exactly right, down to the last woozy, drunken detail. He's a “past his prime” country singer has-been who goes by the name of Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) — even the stage name sounds washed up and left to dry. Once a big star, Blake now finds himself drinking a lot and playing some no name dives for some petty cash. He's sleepwalking through life. All of his hotel rooms are paid for, and most of his drinks are given to him for free (everyone wants to be able to say, “I treated Bad Blake to a cold one”). Blake's either a country legend or a national sore spot. Equipped with low self-esteem, he's always looking for that next lay and that next drink, although not necessarily in that order; he's a superstar in the eyes of many, but never his own. A guilt ridden son of a bitch on the road looking to get into loads of trouble (he's like Randy the Ram, but without the bleached hair and the spray tan), he's a “once legged man trying to dance his way free.”
Crazy Heart is a father's tale, a story about the mistakes we sometimes cause when trying to please the ones we love. Blake encounters a music reporter by the name of Jean Craddock (Maggie Gyllenhaal), looking to interview him one day for the local paper (her uncle is a good friend of Blake's). He agrees, talks with her, and the two develop a playful romance sans tape recorder. She resists getting too close, however. She has a young son to look after, and the boy's father, as is typical, took off years ago. Jean's guard is understandably up and yet Blake finds a way to charm his way into her family's life. He befriends her son and becomes as much a father figure to him as an old partner in crime. There's a reason for this. Bad Blake doesn't ignore his past issues as much as he tries to change without confronting them.
As the film progresses, Cooper (who also wrote the screenplay) introduces us to Wayne, a very honest, outspoken, nurturing old man played by Robert Duvall. As performed by these two actors, their characters' connection is oddly touching. We can tell Wayne feels awful for the way Blake's life has turned out, and maybe he partially blames himself for his downfall (he too was an alcoholic). When he comes to pick up the country singer for a fishing trip, he discovers him passed out on the bathroom floor in his underwear. You can tell in Duvall's face that he is ashamed, not for Blake but for his own inability to break the recurring cycle.
On this fishing trip, Blake mentions a particular phone call he made the other day, questioning whether or not he should have even bothered to make it. Wayne gives him words of encouragement — almost too much, as we sense he's making up for past sins — and croons a song of which you'll have to hear for yourself. The lyrics sum up the entire message and meaning of the film, so it may be best to listen closely. If you need a second sampling, it's played again at the very end of the closing credits. To say it's moving would be an understatement, and to say it sums up a lot about parental responsibility would be just about right. You know people who lose their jobs and/or get divorced and move back in with their folks? These two men have a bond sort of like that, and it encompasses all the heartache that can come along with it.
The film gets other aspects right as well, the most important being the ever so hummable, toe-tapping country music it so effortlessly celebrates. There's an unrehearsed, untrained sound to Bridges' voice, and when it comes to country music, that works just fine in my opinion. He possesses the necessary pain in his vocal tonations and is able to coast on acting like a seasoned professional. Yes, Bridges' singing is a bit rough at times, but rhythmically so, and, like the best vocalists, he is able to act out a story through lyrics, even when intoxicated.
This praise also goes towards Colin Farrell, playing a country pop star who once learned a great deal from the seasoned vet; now it is Blake who opens for him. Farrell's voice is soothing in an unexpected way — he's an Irish actor doing a southern accent and trying to sing like a rock legend. Strangely, it works. When he sings the very important song, “The Weary Kind” late in the film, you'll wonder if Farrell had a hand at this singing 'thang before. The two actors are confident enough in their abilities, and that's all that matters. They act their songs admirably.
I saw another film last week called Trucker, an indie from director James Mottern starring Michelle Monaghan that I soon wish forget. That film's screenplay was very cliched and by the numbers, and Crazy Heart's is too. There is a difference however, not necessarily in subject but in presentation. Trucker shows a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown (no Almodovar assembly required), smoking, drinking, and always on the road, away from her cloying ties at home. She is a tough cookie, a lover trapped in a hard shell. Mottern even throws in a kid character to accentuate Monaghan's character's dysfunction (the child in Crazy Heart symbolizes deeper issues). It essentially makes things so bad for the woman that we have to love her, however foolishly, out of empathy. Cooper avoids making that same mistake. Things do not randomly get worse for Bad Blake; he is the cause of his troubles. Putting it another way, the whole world is not against him, he puts himself against the world. We care and worry about him for he seems so cluelessly self-destructive, and that there is an ideal underdog story.
Shot by cinematographer Barry Markowitz, the film's visuals consist of a lot of dry roads and hills giving off a bright orange, sandy glow. This is the south, after all. Straight and to the point. The sun beats heavily down on our characters, and maybe that helps people show off their true colors — Blake consistently wears sunglasses to keep the truth hidden behind the lenses. The movie always feels warm. In one scene, Bad Blake drives shirtless and looks worn out and ready to fall asleep (although this could be due to a number of things), and in another, well, things go much worse. An intervention comes regardless of the price.
And so now I find it is time to praise the tremendous performance given by the man with the greatest beard in the country, Mr. Jeff Bridges. I've already mentioned several times that Bridges plays a drunk. For the most part though, he is not playing a movie drunk. Sure, he has a moment or two where he wobbles around and falls over (almost mandatory given the expectations of the role), but this not another over the top, kabuki performance. When Bridges receives a certain verbal rejection outside of a female's house near the film's conclusion, Blake's hopelessness is indicated in expression, not given dialogue. He's ready to start over, but the woman can't have any part of it. Blake has been defeated as a creature of habit. Notice how his eyes tell a different story in the final seconds of the film, especially when a young boy is brought up. I'll say no more, except that Bridges' performance makes us cheer for Bad Blake because he never once asks us to.
Crazy Heart is a sadly optimistic picture that constantly has blood running through its veins. It's always thinking, always moving, and the story, although predictable and imperfect, acts like it's the first of its kind. It's by no means a classic or minor classic in the making, but human behavior is a tough thing to get right (and to duplicate), and Bridges and Cooper subtly step up and try their hand at it. The music business is a tough industry to break into, but an even easier one to get kicked out of. Bad Blake has the soul of an artist and can write great songs with the best of them. Unlike his telephone happy agent, it's not the paycheck he's after, but the recognition, the confirmation of having done something right. He wants to be a good musician, songwriter, mentor, and friend. Oh, and a great father.
The 411: Crazy Heart is a very fine, heartfelt movie with conventions. You've seen this story before, but the excellent music and performances make it very worthwhile. This film was rumored to go direct to video (although we seem to hear that every year in regards to highly touted Oscar candidates), but thank goodness it didn't. Jake La Motta, Randy the Ram, Bad Blake, all three men you may want to avoid at relationship counseling, but three you'd want to see in their respective films. Crazy Heart is a pleasant surprise. Just ask Duvall's employee, Jesús. Or is it Juan?
