Director: Bradley Cooper
Writers: Bradley Cooper and Josh Singer
Stars: Bradley Cooper, Carey Mulligan, Matt Bomer
Synopsis: This love story chronicles the lifelong relationship of conductor-composer Leonard Bernstein and Felicia Montealegre Cohn Bernstein.
Even though Maestro contains an array of dynamic set pieces that serve as visual cinematic eye candy, Bradley Cooper’s biopic about one of the greatest composers to ever walk to the Earth, Leonard Bernstein, ends up being prosaic due to the focus on showcasing the actor-turned-filmmaker’s talents on and off the screen instead of that of its subject.
Last year, Cate Blanchett’s Lydia Tár, the fictional lead character from Todd Field’s masterpiece named after the conductor herself, said many things, some of which had reason (mainly relating to artistry) and others paved the way for her downfall. One of the first things you hear her say and details you know about her during the interview she has with Adam Gopnik from the New Yorker is her love and admiration for two of the most recognizable and acclaimed composers of all time, Leonard Bernstein and Gustav Mahler – the two shapeshifting the landscape of classical music as a whole at different points in time. She recalls the maneuvers filled with elegance and poise, with the addition of a rebel-like vision and effervescent charisma needed to reconstruct some of those beloved pieces from the Austro-Bohemian Romantic composer.
Although fictional, Tár’s words are inspired by those who have lauded these maestros’ works. Like Tár, Bernstein had an obsession with Mahler, to the point where he played plenty of his symphonies throughout the 1960s and 80s. All of this is explained in full detail, as well as the other aspects of his complex and legendary life, in the 2021 documentary Bernstein’s Wall by Douglas Tirola. However, we have never seen a feature film depicting or inspired by his life throughout the different stages of his career. We have witnessed biopics about Mahler’s trajectory and relationship with his wife Alma via Ken Russell’s film back in 1974. But what about Bernstein? – as Lydia Tár would have yelled. Well, actor and filmmaker Bradley Cooper is up for the task with a film called Maestro, the title given out of respect to an accomplished musician with enormous talent.
From the title alone, Cooper is already giving out flowers to the conductor. Maestro begins with Leonard Bernstein (Bradley Cooper) being interviewed while sitting at one of his most prized possessions, the piano. In a song by British recording artist Sampha, he sings about nobody knowing him like the piano; that may also be true for Bernstein, but there’s someone who does so to another level, one that transcends his artistry and masterfulness, Felicia Montealegre (Carey Mulligan). He’s playing some somber pieces, one of which is inspired by his late wife. Bernstein loved her very much, telling the camera crew that he misses her – Felicia’s presence is still lingering in these now haunted walls where he resides and the gardens accompanying it.
This first glance at an old, but not completely broken, Bernstein offers the viewer what would be the core of the story Cooper wants to tell – the love he has for both the craft and his wife, more so the latter. There’s some poignancy in these initial frames captured by cinematographer Matthew Lebatique’s eye with such ease and elegance, albeit it is missing the daring nature present in his work with Daren Aronofsky. After this scene, we travel back in time, where color switches to monochrome in a stylistic exercise by Cooper that’s just for flash rather than a storytelling mechanism. We see the moment when Bernstein meets the love of his life at a party, just moments after conducting with the New York Philharmonic. Immediately, you sense a connection between the two, which is elevated by the lead pair’s chemistry and talent.
Their personalities match with one another, even with Bernstein’s complex persona. The two have a high level of confidence and liveliness, amongst other similar qualities, that attracted them to one another. They will end up together for years to come. But these moments that lit their spark are featured to make the audience understand the reason why this film is seen through her lens. There are plenty of sequences in whichthis is shown: a woman who stands beside her love through thick and thin, as well as through fame and artistry. This induces instances where she must live in the shadow of her husband’s grandiose stature. At the center of it all, there’s the stage – the theater or podium. This setting or object that’s at the center of the spotlight shows us the ups and downs of this relationship, full of tides.
A playfulness within the scene-to-scene transitions helps map out how they stand in union – the roles they play in each other’s lives. They both love the arts, but even more so, they love one another. We have seen similar relationships depicted on the big screen in ways that there’s space for a fully-fledged exploration of both players. However, what the actor-turned-filmmaker does with Maestro is dwelling in the classic and predictable biopic structure that makes its presentation lackluster and its ideas surface-level. There are a couple of reasons why the film falls flat. But the reason I would like to point out is the film’s mundane emotional resonance – the crux of Maestro and the key to Bernstein’s passion for the craft, the love he has for his wife.
Of course, Cooper and Mulligan are great performers. (Mulligan cast as a Latina woman, alongside her accent and lines about her homeland – both of which are pretty abasing, was weird to understand the reasonings for it.) And they do some intriguing work here that doesn’t rank amongst their best but does show us some new abilities they might have been keeping secret. However, the complexity of the main character’s relationship is not explored in a way that I would find personally engaging due to the creaky screenplay that Cooper and Josh Singer (Spotlight, First Man) have concocted. The film does have scenes that, on paper, seem complex, as Leonard and Felicia have some confrontations and discussions about several topics. But the words encrypted in the script don’t match the passion and sheer emotion that the actors contain within their portrayals. You end up feeling that this is more of a showcase for Cooper’s growth as a director and actor.
He experiments with many techniques to see if he can nail them (and in most cases, he does so) instead of focusing on its subject – the main reason why people are anticipating this picture. You see how Cooper embodies the late great maestro with such panache as if he has transformed into another being. While I still prefer his work on his adaptation of A Star is Born, which I also deem as underwhelming, I truly appreciate how he can get into character so efficiently. He lets the music puppeteer into his every act and does vice versa as he conducts. And, in a sense, that’s also part of the problem. Cooper operates under a guise that he is forcing onto himself rather than acting naturally. While occasionally stilted, he makes the better of it, even if it doesn’t feel technically real – veering into a version of Bernstein that’s not true-to-life but embraces the fanciful.
It helps him veer into interesting territories, storytelling and performance-wise. Yet, I don’t believe it is enough to shake off the feeling that there’s plenty missing from the film. Most of those aspects that Maestro lacks keep it at a distance on a thematic and psychological level. Bradley Cooper’s sophomore feature ends up being unimpressive and uninspired, unlike the talents of the conductor being portrayed by this film’s director. The few lines that Lydia Tár dedicated to honor her admiration for the maestro are of more worth than Cooper’s two-hour Oscar bait tour-de-narcissism.
