Crazy Heart

It’s tough to say something clever about Crazy Heart, which is not really a movie that aspires to be clever. Except at the very first, when Jeff Bridge’s character Bad Blake pulls his ancient truck up to his first gig. He mutters how angry he is to be booked at a bowling alley, which homage to those, including myself, for whom Bridges will always be The Dude from The Big Lebowski.

Another thing that doesn’t recommend Crazy Heart is its plot, such as there is one. But story is more than plot, and this movie is a fine example of such an assertation. The movie tells the story of the redemption (although I might say it’s closer to an enlightenment) of Bad Blake, a Texas country music singer. At the beginning of the movie, he’s broke, constantly drunk, and struggling for dignity. In the midst of the movie, he meets a muse, Jean Craddock (Maggie Gyllenhaal), and bristles against his now super-successful former protégé, Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell), a Keith Urban-type.

The story of Crazy Heart shows merely a peak and a valley for Bad, who surely has seen his share of both. It’s informative what is slightly different than what must have come before. Bad admits he fathered a child by (presumably) one of his many ex-wives, whom he alienates by virtual abandonment. But this time around Bad realizes the way to Jean’s heart (as opposed to her pants, which is easier) is to become befriend her son, Buddy. But mishandling Buddy is how he loses her, too.

Obviously, the music in a film about a musician is crucial. Even as an ardent fan of Texas country music, I was still charmed by the original compositions in the film. Although “The Weary Kind,” which gives the film its title, has received deserved praise (a Golden Globe and an Oscar nomination), I’m personally partial to “Hold On You” and “Fallin’ & Flyin’.” Both selections offer the rollicking charm that mirrors Bad’s, making him sympathetic in the face of just and self-made consequences.

Speaking of liking Bad, Bridges is outstanding here. His performance feels exceedingly natural. I checked his biography after the film to see if Bridges was from Texas (he’s not—although he famously played a Texan in The Last Picture Show). He helps make Bad likable in part because he always seems like a likable guy, but the charisma differs from what he displayed in playing, for instance, The Dude. Gyllenhaal herself was stunningly convincing, and essentially this was a two-person film. The strength of their acting causes all boats to rise.

The ending feels rushed, certainly, but not unnatural. I think Crazy Heart has a happy ending, but it’s not as happy as it could have been. What sets the ending’s positive tone is Bad’s self-confident acceptance of his lot as a genius at songwriting but amateur at making interpersonal relationships. Such is the story that makes a plot less than necessary.

Crazy Heart is rated R for language and brief sexuality.