Maestro (2023, Bradley Cooper) (Patreon)

49/100

Since Maestro falls squarely into one of my least favorite cinematic genres and never really had much of a chance (though there are very occasional exceptions—Get On Up surprised me, for example, and I guess technically Blaze counts even if I'd never previously heard of Blaze Foley), lemme just quickly say "celebrity biopic, ugh as usual" and focus on the two brief moments from this film that knocked me out, neither of which involves expert mimicry of a vigorous conducting style or flashy digitally-aided location shifts. Cooper once again relies much too heavily on getting his voice down to a more guttural register, but his silent discomfort after Bernstein lies to his daughter, visibly weighing the ramifications of a sudden blurted confession and then reluctantly deciding against it, is exquisite, communicated without being indicated, and makes me think that maybe he has a first-rate non-affected performance in him somewhere. And I'd love to see him direct an entire feature with the counterintuitive assurance that produces quite possibly the finest "character learns they have cancer" scene of all time, with the doctor simply walking in, sitting down with his back to the camera (set up at a distance), and briskly explaining the situation without preamble or apology or performative compassion, while Felicia struggles to keep it together until he's finished. That was fantastic. Otherwise, pretty much what you'd expect, though we do also get one fascinatingly credible line of dialogue: Felicia rhetorically asking Leonard, vis-à-vis their potential arrangement, "What age are we living in? One can be as free as one likes without guilt or confession." (The year: 1947; everyone believes their own time to be uniquely enlightened in some ways.) Not sure whether Cooper thought their sex life or lack thereof was too uncertain to dramatize or just none of our damn business, but either way the omission, excepting one post-coital scene early on and the existence of their three kids, feels cowardly. Heard about the R.E.M. needle-drop in advance, winced at the idea, was not prepared for it to be a diegetic moment in which Bernstein, pulling into a campus parking spot, turns the song off right after his name is shouted. I'm sorry, that's just dorky beyond belief.