Bradley Cooper and Carey Mulligan are each at the top of their game in Maestro, a beautiful, haunting, and heartbreaking exploration of Leonard Bernstein and Felicia Montealegre’s complex and tragic love story.
Overall Score: 10/10
Image: Netflix
What does it take to love an artist? Indeed, many films have attempted to explore the complex answers to this very question. Yet none have come close to capturing the beauty and tragedy of a complicated, tumultuous romantic relationship the same way that Maestro does.
Starring Carey Mulligan and Bradley Cooper (who also co-wrote and directed), Maestro is not your typical biopic. Operating under the assumption that most people already know who Leonard Bernstein was (or at least know of his work), the film transcends and cleverly reinvents the genre by opting not to focus on its subject’s professional life in favor of examining something more personal and far more profound: the decades-long love and marriage between Bernstein and his wife, Felicia Montealegre.
Why is this distinction important, you ask? See, even as good as they are, movies like Bohemian Rhapsody and Elvis don’t exactly manage to go beyond the surface level. While, yes, they do splendid jobs of giving you an overview of the lives of their subjects, they unfortunately don’t go out of their way to explore the “hows” and “whys” of their pain and suffering. Maestro, on the other hand, does. Yes, as any other biopic would do, it understands that Leonard Bernstein was not, by any means, a simple or perfect man, and it shows us that he openly slept with both men and women and had multiple affairs throughout his marriage. But here’s the thing: Maestro sets itself apart by going one step further. It acknowledges there was more to this than just pure infidelity, and it understands that, in a much deeper sense, this was a manifestation of Bernstein’s many inner struggles.
“A work of art does not answer questions, it provokes them; and its essential meaning is in the tension between the contradictory answers.” — Leonard Bernstein
In many ways, the above quote perfectly encapsulates Bradley Cooper’s layered portrait of Bernstein. Like all great artists, he was a tormented soul. Little bits and pieces of himself were torn up and scattered across many different fields of interests and identifications. And because of this, he couldn't exist as someone who was whole.
Additionally, Bernstein must have felt that Montealegre’s existence was similar to his own. And in a sense, he was probably right. As an actress, Felicia Montealegre was required to embody many roles and be many things. But even more so, this demand also applied to her as Bernstein’s wife. She had to play the part of his lover, mother of his children, supporter, admirer, and so much more. In essence, as Maestro shows us, Montealegre was Bernstein’s rock. She kept him grounded, understood him, and tolerated him. And she was the one person he could always return to no matter what.
But even though their love was strong, ultimately, their overall relationship was a tragic one. Montealegre knew from the start that she could never have all of Bernstein to herself. And though she continued to love him for most of their time together, through the years, she suffered a great deal. Bernstein, meanwhile, despite deeply loving Montealegre, found that he couldn’t remain faithful to her — much like how he could never commit to being just one thing. This portrayal of their relationship is sad and heartbreaking, and it’s the perfect example of the tremendous sacrifices and hardships that often come with loving an artist.
All this is brought to life thanks to two unforgettable performances by Bradley Cooper and Carey Mulligan. Starting with the former, Cooper is astonishingly unrecognizable as Leonard Bernstein. The physical resemblance (with the help of some very impressive makeup and prosthetics) alone is shocking enough, but Cooper impresses even more by adopting Bernstein’s unique mannerisms and vocal patterns. Not only that, but Cooper also spent six years learning how to conduct for a specific six minutes — the Ely Cathedral scene — of on-screen conducting. Six whole years! That kind of dedication is rare these days, and my god, did it pay off. Those six minutes are some of the best and most hauntingly beautiful moments of cinema I have and will probably ever see!
Mulligan is also equally as compelling here as Felicia Montealegre. Although her performance isn’t as showy as Cooper’s, it’s incredibly nuanced. Throughout the film, Mulligan expertly portrays Montealegre’s growing frustration with her husband and life. Her range of expressions continuously changes, and the simplest of glances and movements are enough to convey the intensity of her feelings and emotions. It’s a masterful illustration of the toll that immense sacrifices can take on a life, and I believe it completely justifies the decision to give Mulligan top billing.
And as if being amazing separately wasn’t enough already, Cooper and Mulligan also have terrific on-screen chemistry. They play very well off one another, and because of how well and naturally their lines are delivered, every piece of dialogue practically sounds like it’s been improvised. We’re not just watching a pair of actors play their characters here. Heck, we’re watching two real people have real and believable conversations with each other.
Finally, let’s talk about Bradley Cooper as a director. For as much as he’s impressive on-screen, he’s as equally astounding behind the camera. Clearly, he’s worked closely with each department, and the way he seamlessly weaves together the many meticulously crafted elements of the film is nothing short of amazing. He’s very particular, for instance, in the way he wants his cinematography. Several impressive overhead shots combined with zooming techniques are used, while there are also points at which he purposefully lingers on a subject. Cooper also knows how best to frame his every scene and sequence. For example, he knows when and what to focus on to make moments feel significant. Or if he wants to center on someone specific, he cleverly omits other characters from the camera’s view. This same level of attention is given to every aspect of filmmaking at Cooper’s disposal, and honestly, I’m very impressed by the amount of talent he displays as a director.
Overall, Maestro is a magnificent film. It’s a beautiful yet heartbreaking ode to Leonard Bernstein, Felicia Montealegre, and love all rolled into one. Bradley Cooper and Carey Mulligan both deliver what may arguably be career-best performances, and Cooper (with his phenomenal directing skills) further proves just how versatile of a talent he is within the motion picture industry. If you’re looking for a straightforward biopic, this movie may not be for you. But if you’re willing to experience love in all its beauty and tragedy and dig deeper into Leonard Bernstein’s personal life, I highly suggest checking it out.
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