'Crazy Heart': Country Boozer as Sexy Saint

by Brett Parker

Crazy Heart is like a familiar country song played by a second-rate singer in an unflattering, laid-back rendition. In telling the story of a broken-down country star, we find ourselves in the presence of an all-too recognizable story, one that fails to add any surprising kicks or deep reasoning behind its developments. The plot hits a bunch of standard bases but without fully sensed character development. What the film has is a flawless performance from Jeff Bridges, a performance the screenplay can't support and isn't worthy of. He makes his booze-soaked country figure, Bad Blake, an interesting fellow, he just needs a stronger movie to see him all the way through.

Bad Blake used to be a considerably famous Country star, but problems with the bottle has caused his career to play out in the lower decks. As the film opens, he is driving around the country in a creaky truck, appearing for gigs at shabby bars and bowling alleys. Armed with a scruffy beard and a pot belly, Blake goes through the motions in a half-drunken daze. He still puts his heart into his stage performances, but other than that he's a numb soul playing for any run down venue that will have him. Anything to pay for the booze.

The film follows Blake at a point in his later life when things appear to be turning around for him. He wins the heart of Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal), a single-mother-journalist who falls pretty hard for him and is touched by how much he gets along with her son (Jack Nation). He also becomes sought out by Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell), a country superstar who used to play in Blake's band. Sweet offers Blake not only the chance to open for one of his concerts but to write songs for him as well. Blake has finally been given a path to redemption, but he is hopelessly hooked on the bottle. Can he break his old patterns and enjoy his new gifts from fate?

You don't really know how to feel about Crazy Heart because it seems the filmmakers are unsure about how they feel about Blake. The wonderful Bridges is certainly game for anything, but the filmmakers don't really give him anywhere to go. This kind of story demands that Blake be a melancholy train-wreck, yet the film goes to painstaking lengths to paint him as sweet and likeable. They seem hesitant in showing his deeper flaws, so Blake comes across more like a sluggish oaf than a tragic figure. There's less drama to be held that way.

Take, for example, last year's The Wrestler, whose structure Crazy Heart's slightly reminded me of. Both films follow washed-up performers in the lower ranks of their profession while haunted deeply by their mistakes in life. Darren Aronofsky's directing and Mickey Rourke's performance were bruising and uncompromising in showing every minute detail that caused their protagonist to end up in spiritual and professional anguish. Even though the wrestling hero was a likeable fellow, the camera never flinched in showing us every wrong step he'd made and we felt every ounce of his bitter regrets and weary spirit. The Wrestler made us feel we were looking into the heart-wrenching depths of a tragic figure. Crazy Heart makes us feel as if we're looking at a lazy frat boy in post-college life.

Part of the problem is that none of the characters are willing to tell brutal truths to Blake's face. Blake is surrounded by a chorus line of astonishingly sweet and encouraging people and no one barely attempts to dish out the harsh criticisms he desperately needs to hear. His buddy Wayne (Robert Duvall, reminding us of Tender Mercies) has nothing but wonderful things to say about him even though its clear there's nothing wonderful going on in his life. Colin Farrell plays Tommy Sweet with such moody detachment and cold stiffness that nothing substantial comes out of his fragile friendship with Blake. And now let's look at Jean; she falls for Blake point blank and barely says anything about his flaws or lifestyle. Most of the movie is devoted to their tender courtship, but we can't figure out what kind of juice her heart is running on. The most interesting thing in the script is the fact that a hard-working single mother would hook up with an aging, beer-bellied, financially-strapped, alcoholic country singer so easily. By the film's end, when Jean is finally telling Blake what he needs to hear, we wonder what the hell took her so long.

The people around Blake are so accepting of his lifestyle because the filmmakers want to sell the ideal of country star as sex symbol. Despite his apparent flaws, women cling to Blake outright as a sensual beast while men are envious of his apparent mythic stature. If any actor can sell this myth, it's Jeff Bridges, with his easy charm and experienced nuances. Bridges throws a gloves-off zest into the role, throwing his crumbling shagginess and flab out in the open for all to see. With this script, it's easy to see how Blake could've been a self-pitying, melodramatic cliché, but Bridges employs expert subtlety in making Blake feel like a real, lived-in person. That Bridges is able to create such a vivid character in such a transparent script is a testament to his resourcefulness.

Bridges is convincing as a country singer not in the least because he pulls off the film's musical scenes so well. Bridges did his own singing for the role, and his aging voice suits the country tune's well and brings a significant layer of conviction to the role. He's not exactly ready for his own country album, but his voice has that right lived-in country twang, which is exactly what his role demands. I must say that I'm not particularly a fan of country music but I found the music here to be strongly engaging. The film's music was overseen by legendary producer T-Bone Burnett and he brings with him an authentic feel for the tunes that wonderfully hit the emotional bases of the film. I was surprised by how touched I was by the creation and the performance of the film's final tune, “The Weary Kind.”

Despite Bridge's exceptional performance and the surprisingly alluring country tunes, there's nothing really that gripping or fresh about Crazy Heart. It's actually pretty easy to predict the plot's developments as your watching it. It must be said that first time director Scott Cooper avoids a lot of melodramatic pratfalls, but he buys too much into the indie conceit that vivid observations equals great filmmaking. A fully realized script needs to be there first. The camera here is willing to observe a man from the depths, but the failure of the film is that its not willing to follow him all the way to the bottom.