Crazy Heart
Starring Jeff Bridges, Maggie Gyllenhaal
Directed/written by Scott Cooper
Photo by Lorey Sebastian/Fox Searchlight Pictures
If Bad Was Good
There are moments in Crazy Heart that feel true and right (mostly when Jeff Bridges and Maggie Gyllenhaal share the screen). But the rest of the film feels like an exercise in attitude, with its story and substance borrowed from better flicks.
I was rooting for the movie, admiring its slow studied pace, stellar cast and dusty Southwestern charm. I’m also a sucker for films with music (The Commitments, The School of Rock, High Fidelity). But Crazy Heart let me down too often and though I’d love to recommend it, I have to be true to my own crazy heart and rate it a miss.
Bad Blake (Bridges) isn’t bad to the bone (to borrow a George Thorogood song title), he’s just a mess and bad news for those around him. In his younger years he had success as a country singer. But he’s 57 and broke, playing bowling alleys and bars for a few dozen fans, bedding female admirers who remember him from way back (and have the mileage to prove it), and downing hard liquor like a fish. He spends a lot of time with his head in the toilet, throwing up from the poison. I think Bad may have puked more in this film than any movie character in recent history.
Since Bridges is playing a country singer we expect him to sing. At first his voice seemed unsteady, lacking in range. I had a sneaking suspicion his performances, usually limited to a few lines, were cut by the Director to hide weak vocals that might not pass the smell test. But I got used to his voice after a while and started making allowances because Bad wasn’t just a singer, he was a singer-songwriter playing words and music he had written. That’s the way it is with singer-songwriters, sometimes they’re not the strongest vocalists, but they’re playing their own stuff and no one can do it better. So I forgave Bad/Bridges for any vocal faults, and began to admire the way Bad could turn a catchy phrase, offering strong lyrics that were sometimes subtle, sometimes playful, sometimes sad.
When Jean Craddock (Gyllenhaal), a budding music reporter in Santa Fe, shows up at his motel for an interview it’s the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Well not really. They’re two lost souls, she a single Mom with a young boy and history of bad men, he approaching sixty with a son he hasn’t seen in twenty years. They fall for one another and share many sweet moments, age difference notwithstanding. But Bad is bad and eventually he screws up in a crucial scene that involves Jean’s son, a scene that was well-played but I saw coming the moment it began. If the film had only surprised me a bit more, instead of offering the expected mannerisms and plot points, I might have been a fan.
Eventually Bad hits bottom, seeks help, cleans up. He emerges with a measure of success, penning a hit song for a country superstar, his former protegee Tommy Sweet (played by Colin Farrell in unusual but effective casting). Bad’s ride has been a bumpy one and that seems to be the point. Early in the film, when Jean asks Bad where his songs come from, he replies: “Life, unfortunately.”
It’s the best line in the movie. If the film that followed had lived up to that moment, I’d be singing its praises.
Rating: 6½ out of 10 (not recommended) on the Movie Fraction Rating System™
See Also:
 Men In Black III Global Dates By Country |
 Blue Pill Or Red Pilll Your Choice |
 Art House Spotlight: Drexel Theatre Columbus, OH |
