"Petition me no petitions, sir, to-day; Let other hours be set apart for business. To-day it is our pleasure to be drunk . . ." Henry Fielding, Tom Thumb, The Great
When a memorable performance transcends a mediocre plot, the result is a memorable role flanked by a forgettable film. Such is the case of Jeff Bridges as Bad Blake, a sodden wreck of a country singer still making a living playing at bars and bowling alleys in Crazy Heart, an apt title.
Not Garth Brooks or Willie Nelson, but well-known enough to be offered free booze and free ladies, 57 year old Bad is like his 30 year old pickup truck, still serviceable but ready to bust at any moment. Bridges is a believable singer/drunk, not overdoing either but pathetic enough for you to want to strangle some sense into him while he still can perform. And write songs—if he can get to them, especially at the encouragement of Tommy Sweet (a convincing, real life bad boy Colin Farrell), young country singer now flourishing partly because of Bad's good mentoring. The descent into cliché is quick as Santa Fe reporter Jane (Maggie Gyllenhaal) falls for him during an interview for her paper. She has a four-year old child—well, you can guess the rest of the film through romance and rehab but maybe not denouement.
The addition of one of the producers of the film, Robert Duvall, as Bad's friend and club owner Wayne, is a welcome allusion to Duvall's Oscar performance as country singer Mac Sledge in Tender Mercies. Add T Bone Burnett as a song writer and producer of the film and you have a promising pedigree. Unfortunately director/writer Scott Cooper may not have caught the fire of the original novel by Thomas Cobb.
I will nominate Bridges as one of the best actors of the year. That's the best I can offer you besides the New Mexico landscape and cloud dotted blue sky. As for watching another story about an alcoholic singer, I'll stick with Colin Firth drinking a little in A Single Man or Michael Sheen in the Damned United. The drunken hero is one of my damned.
