It’s a little depressing to walk into an empty cinema to watch the frontrunner for best actor this close to the Oscars; especially when Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief has a line stretching round the corner. But it’s no real surprise. The misery-soaked tale of an alcoholic, country music has-been isn’t exactly Friday night date fodder.
Jeff Bridges really is brilliant in the central role however. He plays Bad Blake, a man whose song-writing talent is matched only by his self-destructive bitterness. He’s playing crappy gigs, to bowling alleys full of audiences clinging to better times with the same desperate grip he has on his steel-string. But a glimpse of happiness appears in the form of music journalist Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal), who just might be the inspiration to lift him up.
This romance, like the film itself, lives and dies on the performances of these two great players. It’s very hard to buy this young, intelligent, beautiful woman being attracted to such a wreck of a man – this goes beyond broken-wing syndrome into a whole new level of romantic masochism. But the one attractive quality we get out of Bad, is the undeniable sad honesty he carries himself with; a trait which Jean’s presence only heightens.
Crazy Heart meanders a little round the middle, occasionally feels like The Wrestler with guitars, and doesn’t always hit the high emotional notes; but the third act is incredibly strong. The film ends up as an imperfect but wailing tribute to a bitter cowboy, and it wouldn’t be a crime to see Bridges get the gong on this one.
