The introductory sounds of most production companies are drowned out when the film begins, with the melancholy piano of a sequence from Leonard Bernstein’s opera, A Quiet Place. The film opens with his quote, “A work of art does not answer questions, it provokes them; and its essential meaning is in the tension between the contradictory answers.”
In narrative terms, Maestro comes off as any other biopic – linear. There is close to no experimentation with the different perspectives available to Bradley Cooper. It is a series of events, depicted as they are. This is also because it looks at a whole life. We aren’t looking at pivotal phases – as we did with Nolan’s Oppenheimer, who chose three parts of his life and made the most of them, also managing to play with perspectives. There is too much to cover in a life well lived, and eventually, Cooper is spread too thin as an actor and director.
Carey Mulligan delivers the best performance in the film, playing Bernstein’s wife, Felicia Montealegre. She manages to carve out moments in the film where her performance is rapturous – despite the script and the storyboard trying to push the narrative of the woman who made the man (there is a memorable and beautiful shot of her literally in Bernstein’s shadow as he conducts).
Cooper has, quite evidently immersed himself into this character. He returns as a lead actor five years after his directorial debut with A Star is Born (2018). Reportedly, he has spent the interim closely learning the ins and outs of conducting. This was especially for the recreation of Bernstein’s iconic helming of the London Symphony Orchestra for Mahler’s Ressurection Symphony No. 2. Those six minutes alone make the film worth watching – Cooper exudes passion.
Apart from the music and the grainy voice adopted by Cooper, the film continually falls flat. It never feels like we get a window into Bernstein’s life, but that is maybe because Bernstein himself was very aware of his celebrity, and seldom let the side down. There are very few moments in the film, outside of some of Cooper and Mulligan’s scenes, where an interaction is emotional, or intimate – and the lack thereof makes it all the more memorable.
Cooper transforms into Bernstein with the help of Kazu Hiro, – one of the big experts in prosthetic makeup in the West – whose fashioning of a nose for Cooper was a cause for censure across the globe. The makeup team shines again with how they age Mulligan, whose eyes do so much of the talking throughout the film.
It is undeniable, however, that there is nobody who would have honed this film for as long as Cooper did, with a love as deep as Cooper had for the life and work of Bernstein. Unfortunately, because he wears the hats of the lead and the director, so much gets lost. The devil is in the details, and in many ways, the detail is the undoing of Maestro. There is almost no room for improvisation, even if the performances don't feel rehearsed. It feels limited by what "actually" happened.
The music is a no-brainer – it’s fantastic (the film is about it, in many big ways), and when it’s there, you take note. It completes the film, and this whole ensemble works because of it. The production design is timeless with golden-yellow serifs. The distinction is in the visuals and the editing. Cooper goes out on a limb and portrays the 1940s with the kind of equipment available then. The grainy, 1.33:1, black-and-white frames do not dull the youthful radiance on Cooper and Mulligan’s faces.
Matthew Libatique, the director of photography (also known for Requiem for a Dream, Black Swan, and A Star is Born), does not practice moderation. He pulls out all the stops, be it with visual metaphors, or just breathtakingly beautiful frames. These well-composed shots work well in tandem with Michelle Tesoro's editing (an especially memorable transition is a subtle cut on stage, between Mulligan bowing, and Cooper surfacing, as they both sail the highs of the beginning of their careers).
Much like Bernstein said – this film is a work of art that provokes several questions. And there is no doubt that the answers are contradictory. The span of the story is far too wide to tug at the heart, but the rest of the elements have enough strength to keep it afloat. The visuals, the sound, and the environment built to house this story are full of character. Perhaps the only thing that takes away from it, is the Netflix release, because this film, more than any other, could only be fully enjoyed in cinemas.
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