Movie Review: Crazy Heart

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Directed By: Scott Cooper

Starring: Jeff Bridges, Colin Farrell, Maggie Gyllenhaal

Grade: B+

Synopsis: A down-and-out The Dude changes his life after he falls for a cute female reporter, man

I'm stepping in for Dave this week, and since I'm not as big of a movie boner as he I can't sprinkle you with fun facts about directors, or cute little references to past movies. But I can talk about how I want to marry Maggie Gyllenhaal, or at least keep her locked in my closet until her age really catches up with her.  Anyway, I saw Crazy Heart, and I saw it alone.

Jeff Bridges stars in this ménage a trios of The Wrestler, The Big Lebowski, and Ring of Fire.  Imagine The Dude is a down-and-out country music star, struggling against the harsh realities of sobriety, fame, poverty, and finally being alone.  So take the sadness aspect of The Wrestler, the country music part of Ring of Fire (admittedly I haven't seen this movie, but you know, I can guess that it's about country music) and throw Jeff Bridge's Dude character in the middle as the affable drunk. 

Jeff B. puts on another stellar performance, making you think, "You know, maybe I do want to be a lonely drunk so-and-so."  We follow Bridge's character, Bad Blake, as he travels to small towns to perform small gigs, all the while getting straight hammered on whiskey and having sex with old women.  Meanwhile, Blake's protégé Tommy Sweet, played by Texas-homegrown Colin Farrell, is becoming extremely popular, and boy does Bad not like the sound of that. If I gave a shit about country music I might say that it represents the widening gap between rough, whisky-drinkin', pullin' on the heart strings music of the old generation country music starts versus the new age, tea-drinkin' meaningless country music stars.  But I totally made all of that up and have no intention of looking into the current status of country music.  However, the entire theatre full of 50-somethin'-year-old local couples might have something to say about it.  They laughed along to jokes like "What's with the boots, you kill a dog 'er something?" with the few, slightly peculiar older gentleman who, along with me, were also alone in the theatre.

So just when you think Bad is on the edge of disaster, Maggie Gyllenhaal, the angel of my wet dreams, bursts onto the scene as savvy reporter Jean Craddok. Blah blah blah, they fall in love, Bad's on the road, comes back but can't stay sober.  Bad takes Jean's kid to the mall but loses the little bastard in his drunken stupor.  This makes Jean pissed, and she never wants to see Bad again.  Bad gets sober, writes a few licks on the ole gee-tar, and sells the songs to Tommy Sweet for some fat cash.  Although the man is getting paid, he can't get laid. And as all country music stars openly admit, the only thing better than making money is bustin' a nut.  Yes, Jean refuses to take him back and even marries some other straight shootin' collard green. 

In the end Bad remains alone, but somehow he is happy. I guess he is making money again, so he can just wrangle any old pig he wants on a big pile of money.  But the movie is still pretty sad, especially if you see it alone, and even more if you are a down and out country music star looking for love.  Not going to find it buddy, except in the theater bathroom from the lonely old man who reeked of dial soap two rows above me.  But it is a good move, just don't see it alone, or even with your significant other... go see it with your parents I guess.  They like sappy life-stories like that.  And you can kind of see Maggie Gyllenhaal's nipple in one scene. 

 

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