Social Media was all a-buzz when the first few production stills were released for Maestro, the new Bradley Cooper-directed-written-starring vehicle regarding the legendary American composer and conductor, Leonard Bernstein. The talk was not positive, for instead of gasping at Cooper’s inhabitance of Bernstein’s skin, all anyone could dish on was the large prosthetic nose included in Cooper’s makeup. The small controversy led to the Anti-Defamation League giving clearance to the piece. Bernstein, of course, was Jewish, and the emphasized snout brought echoes to the minds of some viewers of antisemitic stereotypes in art.
Little did anyone suspect that Cooper’s fake nose would go on to be one of the only bright spots in an otherwise lifeless, ineffective, and pointless movie.
Maestro claims to cover the life and career of Bernstein, which it sort of does in the first half-hour before becoming a shabby student film. It starts out by introducing the world to the composer and his wife, Felicia Montealegre (played by Carey Mulligan). In the film, Cooper plays Bernstein, who begins his career as a conductor on television and songwriter in theatre, then conducts and teaches across the country. Along the way, his marriage crumbles as his penchant for younger men is barely hidden. Bernstein is shown as one of the original free spirits, long before the hippies. Reckoning, in his middle age years, by his wife’s refusal to associate with him, he declares he still wishes to be a part of Felicia and his children’s life and leaves the boy toys at the doorstep. This proves poignant when Felicia suffers from breast cancer, and he vows not to leave her side.
The amount of time it took to read that synopsis on paper is about the same amount of time within two hours that any human relationship is explored in the film. There is little meaningful self-reflection, one must first have a character in order to analyze it. Likewise, the audience learns and sympathizes very little with Felicia, who is written for stoic reactions from Mulligan and nothing more. There are no lessons about Bernstein’s craft, process, nor depth besides conventional boisterous conduction and the occasional line of Edna St. Vincent Millay. Most importantly, there is no discernable plot in the movie.
In short, Maestro is a film about nothing, featuring Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein.
Movies like this are most infuriating, with terms like “Oscar bait” and “vanity project” practically tailor-made for this sort of project. It is, indeed, a sizeable act of selfishness on Cooper’s part to shine in an unconventional role without any perceptible regard to the legacy or integrity of the subject matter. Yet, the aforementioned terms don’t even feel applicable to this mess of a film; it’s as if this piece was done at the pinnacle of one man’s excruciating boredom. This is Cooper’s version of playing “I Spy” on a 10-hour car ride through an open field. Something, anything to pass as entertainment.
While story-wise the film lacks in delivering a plot nor a coherent central theme, the tonal shifts are often vivid. The first half-hour swings from noir to Citizen Kane-like hefty drama, then pivots to an attempt at ‘70’s-era visceral drama.
As previously stated, there is no character to these characters. Bernstein’s bisexuality is written as a flaw, while his artistry is often shown separate from his personal life. Felicia is conducted cluelessly, neither fully understanding of nor entirely detached from her husband yet conceding to his every move.
As for his acting, Cooper’s embodiment of the subject would in any other context be considered the greatest performance of the decade, but with such meandering dribble in this script, we are numbed to any power that the experience of watching such a fine actor in this role could possibly elicit. It’s the kind of mind-numbing that parents used to worry about with their kids being exposed to violent video games and becoming desensitized to the devastation onscreen.
There are no other real standout performances, as Mulligan, also a fine actress, is reduced to reciting cold words in a wig over Chesterfields. Sarah Silverman makes an unremarkable appearance as Bernstein’s sister Shirley, as does Matt Bomer in his role as clarinetist David Oppenheim: Leonard’s first homosexual love, who disappears without a trace after the first act.
What saves the movie is Bernstein’s music. Thank God, there’s a lot of it. It is the one trace of the musical genius’s spirit interjected for a few fleeting moments of actual wonder. For Bernstein aficionados or those, like yours truly, who are simply privy to at least some of the man’s work, it comes and goes like a Lionel train under a Christmas tree.
Such childish similes are not the most diminishing nor insulting to Bernstein in terms of the material within this review, as Cooper has that covered. It is also not the worst that could be said about Cooper’s product, which will remain unwritten (I’d like to have a career).
It’s impossible to suggest that Bernstein in any playlist would be a skip, but Maestro is one of the rare films that insult through its ignorance and arrogance to such a degree, it’s perhaps best left unwatched.
Dylan James graduated from the Savannah College of Art & Design with a BFA in Dramatic Writing. He has studied both the ‘show’ and ‘business’ aspects of show business since childhood, and writes through sociological analysis, seeking relevance in the art and commerce for the moment.
