Clearly, what we have here is a passion project by Bradley Cooper. Maestro reflects on Leonard Bernstein as a complicated man. For sure, Cooper recognizes and celebrates Bernstein's innate virtuoso genius, as well as his stunning ability to work a room without so much as lifting a baton. But the focus is on his flaws. That being, his undying love for his wife, Felicia, which is simultaneously challenged by his lusting unfaithfulness brought about by his repressed and unaddressed homosexuality. Cooper doesn't see Bernstein as a victim or a villain, but simply, a good man who must come to grips with the consequences of his own actions. The famed conductor, adored by millions, is just a human. A human who's flawed like so many. Bernstein's story proves that neither of these truths are mutually exclusive.
To highlight these two concepts, Maestro is separated into two parts and contains the most striking and devastating tonal shift of any movie in recent memory. The first 30 minutes of the film, in black-and-white, feel like a shot of adrenaline. You get a little bit of Billy Wilder and a dash of Howard Hawkes as we see Bernstein's rise to glory and his blissful love affair with Felicia. The world seems so optimistic and exciting. This is a man who can hustle and make things happen! Anything is possible. Then, in color, everything stops. All the exuberance and the hope of a bright shining future of a young talent washed away. Bernstein's marriage turns sour. His fame and acclaim begin to isolate him. Bernstein has turned into a bitter, selfish, older man, ungrateful and unsatisfied with the world around him. This was a stunning decision by Cooper. You can feel the weight of the world come crashing down on you as the film continues. Maestro is anything but one note as a biopic, and i can't tell you how unbelievably refreshing that is.
If only Maestro could've found a way to make this transition seem less abrupt. What I mean is that we know by the second half that everything went horribly wrong for the Bernstein family, but we aren't given any of the early warning signs. Perhaps the tragedy wouldn't have hit as hard as it does here if the transition was gradual, but at times, it feels as though this film wanted to have a chance to breathe, but couldn't. From a tainted marriage to a cancer diagnosis, we wonder whatever happened to the Lenny and Felicia of days past. Was it all a dream? Was the first half just the reality of our collective imaginations? Is the real Leonard Bernstein anywhere near his legendary status in music and theatre? Cooper asks these question, but I'm not sure that he fully comes to an answer.
The film's second half left me speechless. Cooper and Mulligan absolutely triumph in their respective roles here. The long takes that focus on the most painful moments of their later years assert a powerful cinematic dialogue we haven't seen from any other director since Paul Thomas Anderson. Cooper, insomuch as he has been a director these past several years, has matured greatly. This is a director who's really making some big moves. This is someone who clearly has a lot to say. But he's still got a lot of work to do.
I was particularly disappointed and almost dismayed by the film's ending. Whatever strides Cooper took before, he took a hundred steps backwards with an ending that felt cold and cynical. Bernstein is just a shell of what he was, with only Felicia's memory left to remind him of what he once had... AND? Is that truly all that's left to say? Is dancing with his new 80s boy-toy all that we're going to reduce this great conductor to? I would hope to see this decision dividing audiences as much as I believe it should. If it does, that could only be good news. Because that would mean that Maestro has got us talking. Any movie worth its salt should do just that.
To highlight these two concepts, Maestro is separated into two parts and contains the most striking and devastating tonal shift of any movie in recent memory. The first 30 minutes of the film, in black-and-white, feel like a shot of adrenaline. You get a little bit of Billy Wilder and a dash of Howard Hawkes as we see Bernstein's rise to glory and his blissful love affair with Felicia. The world seems so optimistic and exciting. This is a man who can hustle and make things happen! Anything is possible. Then, in color, everything stops. All the exuberance and the hope of a bright shining future of a young talent washed away. Bernstein's marriage turns sour. His fame and acclaim begin to isolate him. Bernstein has turned into a bitter, selfish, older man, ungrateful and unsatisfied with the world around him. This was a stunning decision by Cooper. You can feel the weight of the world come crashing down on you as the film continues. Maestro is anything but one note as a biopic, and i can't tell you how unbelievably refreshing that is.
If only Maestro could've found a way to make this transition seem less abrupt. What I mean is that we know by the second half that everything went horribly wrong for the Bernstein family, but we aren't given any of the early warning signs. Perhaps the tragedy wouldn't have hit as hard as it does here if the transition was gradual, but at times, it feels as though this film wanted to have a chance to breathe, but couldn't. From a tainted marriage to a cancer diagnosis, we wonder whatever happened to the Lenny and Felicia of days past. Was it all a dream? Was the first half just the reality of our collective imaginations? Is the real Leonard Bernstein anywhere near his legendary status in music and theatre? Cooper asks these question, but I'm not sure that he fully comes to an answer.
The film's second half left me speechless. Cooper and Mulligan absolutely triumph in their respective roles here. The long takes that focus on the most painful moments of their later years assert a powerful cinematic dialogue we haven't seen from any other director since Paul Thomas Anderson. Cooper, insomuch as he has been a director these past several years, has matured greatly. This is a director who's really making some big moves. This is someone who clearly has a lot to say. But he's still got a lot of work to do.
I was particularly disappointed and almost dismayed by the film's ending. Whatever strides Cooper took before, he took a hundred steps backwards with an ending that felt cold and cynical. Bernstein is just a shell of what he was, with only Felicia's memory left to remind him of what he once had... AND? Is that truly all that's left to say? Is dancing with his new 80s boy-toy all that we're going to reduce this great conductor to? I would hope to see this decision dividing audiences as much as I believe it should. If it does, that could only be good news. Because that would mean that Maestro has got us talking. Any movie worth its salt should do just that.