Crazy Heart

It’s funny that people are drawing parallels between this movie and Darren Aronofsky’s equally lauded The Wrestler. While there is that familiar 'last chance for the old dog' premise, the film opening on a similarly wretched locale, Scott Cooper’s Crazy Heart, does its best to avoid most of the highly-charged emotions or tensions that signalled a major comeback for Mickey Rourke.

There’s none of that dynamic required in this film. It isn’t meant to be a biographical catharsis and really, the tale of the once-celebrated country singer, Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges), now down on his luck, doesn’t generate the same adrenaline rush as one about a beat-up pro wrestler.

That’s not meant to be a critical assault, just an observation about the differing styles; director Cooper sticks with a less intense, unobtrusive aesthetic. This is not to say he doesn’t know when to step in and frame a shot beautifully, but it’s more important he captures the authentic details of the road. The puffing, the puking, the pissing into a plastic jug, the supping on female fans like so many bottles of gifted whiskey. Bad Blake is the last of a dying breed. A burden to his long-suffering manager and as unfamiliar to people now as his long list of influences.

Not that he likes to talk too much about them. His speech is kept to a minimum and when it does come it’s in a mumbled, barely audible tone that feels like spiel - the result of a long road of shitty venues. It’s only when he meets a young journalist, Jean Craddock (Maggie Gyllenhaal) that things start to change. He opens up, takes an opportunity to perform again with his estranged young protégé Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell) - a man who’s taken his crown, but not his talent with words - and sings with spirit.

It’s here where the film is best. Up on the stage the story ignites. Not into an inferno, but it adds some much-needed vitality and voice to the weary tone. It’s also where we get the few close-ups Cooper allows. A shrewd choice as it emphasises the revelatory nature of performance, most of the pain in Blake’s life winding up in the lyrical licks of a country song.

It makes up for the lack of real conflict in the movie. What little there is feels too familiar, too inevitable, the sleepy-sad atmosphere making any drama stick out like a sore thumb. A brutally honest attempt at reconciliation between father and son does come close to the blunt clarity contained in Blake’s music, but it’s an isolated incident. To be fair to the filmmakers, nobody expects a film about country singing to end well. Without some kind of misery, where would you get the fuel for such powerful music?

It’s a mood that’s keyed in early, ingrained in every frame of the photography that’s as laidback as the performances and equally unassuming. Lighting is low-key, the early scenes often awash in thick blacks that spread across faces like a familiar embrace - almost as if the sun rising at the start of the film is as sluggish in performing its duties as Blake is as he moves between venues and interacts with a fairly colourful range of characters.

It’s a cast that knows its place, and Farrell’s the most surprising in a minor role. He’s as respectful of Bridges performance as his character, Tommy Sweet is about Blake’s role in his own career. There’s a sense that Farrell is playing through his own change, saying goodbye to the last wisps of smoke from a devil-may-care attitude and moving forward with as robust a voice as he puts up on stage. Similarly, Gyllenhaal rises above her meagre role as ‘human conflict’, juggling a love for a wildly charming man with the fear that he’ll burn her out, leaving her little more than a prop for one of his songs.

Robert Duvall’s an interesting choice as one of Blake’s oldest friends, Wayne. Not in any way a judgement on his performance which is as reliably world-wise as usual, but he’s already played - well, practically - Bridges' part before in Tender Mercies, and won an Oscar for it. Lazy symmetry or a vote of confidence, it’s hard to say. One thing’s for sure, beneath this three-star movie there’s yet another five-star performance from Bridges. He’s as mellow and unaffected as Mitchum at his best and while it’s becoming harder to see the split between the man and his acting legacy, you’ll still be more than happy for them to pay tribute to just that legacy come the Oscars.