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Review: In 'Crazy Heart,' Jeff Bridges masters complex role of a has-been singer
Friday, January 29, 2010

Chain-smoking, chain-drinking, chain-barfing -- what else would you expect of an over-the-hill country music singer whose first name is Bad?

You'd expect Bad Blake to be no better or worse than Jeff Bridges plays him in "Crazy Heart," director Scott Cooper's debut feature based on Thomas Cobb's 1987 novel: a disillusioned, broken-down alcoholic whose last hit came out sometime during the Nixon administration -- and who's still singing it, even as he's going hard and hopelessly down.

So this is just another tale of a has-been musician battling his addictions? No. It's not just that, thanks to the soulful depth of Bridges' portrayal. His aging Bad boy "coulda been a contender" (and was, for a while), but nowadays he's about as low as you can go without a casket.

We first meet him upon arrival at the Spare Room Bowling Alley in Pueblo, his current "venue," as he emerges from his rusty station wagon with his belt buckle hanging open and empties a plastic container full of yellow liquid. Let's just say he has an aversion to rest-stop restrooms and a preference for ad hoc urinals. It's his character's dubious signature: Thenceforth, we never see him without his chronically unbuckled belt.


'Crazy Heart'

3 1/2 stars = Very good
Ratings explained

His "stage" there consists of a cramped corner behind the lanes. His nearby accommodations are equally glamorous: the latest in an endless succession of cheap, grimy motel rooms. His back-up band consists of a few pick-up players perhaps a third of his age. They'll be playing his ancient tunes to a "crowd" of about a dozen fans as long-in-the-tooth as he -- from which he'll pick one of his precious few aging groupies to take back to the motel afterward.

Bad stumbles in and out of such towns and such rooms in a hungover haze, on tiptoes to avoid waking up the ladies. He already has more ex-wives and girlfriends than he can remember, as well as a 28-year-old son he rarely has seen. This guy is no candidate for sobriety, let alone salvation, until he encounters Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal) in Santa Fe. She's a single mom and a single-minded C&W music journalist who prevails on him for an interview -- and for discovery of the man behind the shell.

Conflict comes when the young star Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell) asks Bad to open for him at a big concert in Phoenix. Tommy is his ex-protege. Bad taught him everything he knows, but they've had a long, painful falling-out. The old ex-star says no to the reunion. But as gigs go, the amphitheater in Phoenix is Carnegie Hall compared to the Spare Room in Pueblo.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch of his romance with Jean, it turns out that Bad is good with kids. Real good. Love blossoms -- until he makes a terrible, drunken mistake while taking care of her son.

Alkie movies have a long, distinguished tradition in American films, from Ray Milland's "Lost Weekend" through Jack Lemmon's "Days of Wine and Roses" -- appropriately enough for an industry where stardom and substance abuse have been almost synonymous. Playing drunk is full of pitfalls, but Bridges avoids them by eschewing the stereotypical choices in favor of painful restraint.

If you thought his portrayal of the slacker extraordinaire in "The Big Lebowski" was his finest role, you may revise your opinion after seeing this one. At 60, he looks and acts older than Kris Kristofferson but remains hugely likable -- no, beloved -- from his dreamy Duane in "The Last Picture Show" through the alien of "Starman" and the shock-jock in "The Fisher King." His good looks and genes were inherited from daddy Lloyd's scuba adventures and big bro Beau's quirky angst. Here in "Crazy Heart," his comic, tragic and romantic skills are showcased in a near-perfect blend of humor and pathos: the exuberance of his music vs. the depression of his demons. He's a good guitarist and a decent, if not spectacular, singer.

There have been almost as many country-music film dramas as alcoholic ones. I, for one, was no fan of the music until Robert Altman's great "Nashville" (1975) and Robert Duvall's Oscar-winning performance in "Tender Mercies" (1983). Best recent example: the Johnny Cash biopic "Walk the Line" (2005). Why does country music transfer so well to the screen? Because the songs -- no matter how hokey or sentimental -- are always stories, lending themselves to a narrative. The fine tunes and lyrics here, by T Bone Burnett and Steven Bruton, exemplify that:

"I been blessed and I been cursed,

All my lies been unrehearsed."

Lively, lovely Gyllenhaal is cute and convincing, from her first disastrous interview with Bad to their pleasantly tame love scenes. Robert Duvall is terrific as Bad's bartender-pal, summoned to the rescue by his friend's inevitable collapse. Bridges has a nice concert duet with Colin Farrell -- who for mysterious reasons has been largely uncredited as Tommy. For that matter, all of the minor characters ring true to someone you've known or seen in America's gritty Southwest.

"Crazy Heart" has been called "The Wrestler" with music. Its bittersweet ending is not a conventionally happy one, but it reconciles the good, the bad and the ugly of Bad: the Last Chance Saloon serves only soft drinks.

Opens today at Manor and AMC-Loews.

Post-Gazette film critic emeritus Barry Paris can be reached at parispg48@aol.com.
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First published on January 29, 2010 at 12:00 am
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