Brightest Young Things

With his directorial debut, Scott Cooper’s Crazy Heart offers a clear-eyed view of an aging country singer’s alcoholism. Anchored by strong acting and understated power, the movie rises above the clichés of a typical addiction story. It’s not that the singer sinks to the bottom and seeks redemption. He’s at the bottom all along, and a good people help him finally acknowledge it.  These people in his life have issues of their own, and are too world-weary for big speeches. They helplessly watch the singer debase himself, hopeful they’ll catch him on a day when his peerless talent shines. And like a sad country song, there’s enough warmth and hope in Crazy Heart to guide us through the low moments.

In a performance that’ll undoubtedly receive an Academy Award nomination, Jeff Bridges plays Bad Blake, the singer in question. We meet Bad as he slogs through a tour of the southwest. He once headlined large venues, and at age 57, he now plays the back of bowling alleys. When he vomits mid-performance, one gets the impression this occurs often. Two people unexpectedly enter Bad’s life, and offer a glimmer of redemption. The first is Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal), a Santa Fe reporter who Bad easily ensnares with quiet southern charm. The second is Tommy (Colin Farrell), Bad’s former protégé who has since become a star. After Bad opens for Tommy, Tommy suggests Bad write him some songs. Bad begrudgingly agrees, and returns to his Houston home where his bartender friend (Robert Duvall) offers a regular Saturday gig. Jean visits Bad for a long weekend, and brings along her young son (Jack Nation). It doesn’t take long for Bad to ruin everything, so his booze-soaked abyss becomes darker than ever.

Jeff Bridges has spent a career embodying characters from the inside-out, and Bad Blake is no different. There’s no artifice, and it never appears as if he is acting. Die-hard fans already know Bridges is an accomplished singer, and the performance scenes are believable. It’s fascinating to watch Bridges act as he sings. Like a worn baseball mitt, his voice is frayed from abuse, yet still gets the job done. In a thankless role, Farrell plays Tommy as a thoughtful, shrewd professional. Tommy isn’t a prima donna – he remembers his roots, and his affection for Bad is real.

Special attention should be given to Gylenhaal, who rises to the challenge as Bridge’s equal. Her eyes subtly betray her complicity in Bad’s alcoholism, particularly as he drinks with her son nearby. It is easy to see why she lets him into her life. Bad seduces Jean by conjuring lyrics for her, and their dialogue is plainspoken yet poetic. In fact, Bridges strongest accomplishment is how he makes audience believe his character’s talent. Bad abused his gift over the years, yet there are brief glimpses of the powerhouse he once was. Talent is Bad’s biggest strength and weakness – it’s the reason others forgive him and the reason he cannot see his lowly state. Cooper’s direction has a firm grasp of this situation, and it’s a wonder Crazy Heart is his debut. He does not rely on showy tricks to illustrate Bad’s addiction. With straightforward camerawork, there is ample time for us to develop affection for Cooper's characters.

I was ready to dismiss Crazy Heart because of its clumsy title. With a vague idea of the movie’s premise, I thought it sounded like an inelegant reference to Bad Blake. Little did I know how effectively the title would be used, and to whom it references. In a masterful scene, we see how “crazy heart” kicks around in Bad’s head, and how it jumpstarts his creativity. Like the movie as a whole, this scene achieves its modest ambition with careful observation. No one will be surprised by Crazy Heart, as an addiction story can end in only two ways. Yet for those who value heartbreakingly plausible characters, it contains rich rewards.