Bradley Cooper delivered one of the finest directorial debuts of the 2000s with his thoughtful and poignant retelling of the Hollywood classic, A Star Is Born. The film enthralled us with its heartbreaking love story, compelling sub-themes, and a fantastic soundtrack performed by a multi-talented cast. And much like the film’s main character, Jackson Maine, opines throughout, A Star Is Born was so meaningful because it had something deep and profound to say. That’s why it’s so astonishing that Cooper’s highly anticipated follow-up film, Maestro, has very little to say at all.
Maestro navigates itself through the decades-spanning love story and marriage between world-renowned Orchestra conductor and composer, Leonard Bernstein (Cooper), and actress Felicia Montealegre (Promising Young Woman’s Carey Mulligan). Their introduction and early relationship blossom through a fiery passion and immediate chemistry. But as the years pass and their family grows, Lenny and Felicia face continued struggles at the hands of Bernstein’s bisexual infidelities.
Bradley Cooper and Academy Award winning screenwriter, Josh Singer (Spotlight), diverge from the traditional biopic formula, barely touching on conductor’s rise to global stardom, and narrow their focus on Lenny and Felicia’s unconventional partnership. In doing so, they fail to differentiate themselves from similar love stories found in films like Todd Haynes’ Far from Heaven and the Queen biopic, Bohemian Rhapsody. A frequent moviegoer friend of mine phrased it best, “I went into the movie knowing very little about Leonard Bernstein, and I left still knowing very little about him”. Certainly, there must be a more interesting story to tell of Bernstein’s life. Instead, Cooper and Singer’s misplaced perspective culminates in a trudging and familiar tale that’s only saved by a talented cast and an exceptional symphonic score.
Although Maestro provides little insight into the development of Bernstein’s superior skillset and artistic mastery, the film still relies on intense musical orchestration during its strongest scenes. They come when Cooper magically transforms into Bernstein, taking command of his musicians and guiding them through a powerful symphony of sound. He does so with a whimsical waving of his arms, as if possessed by the melodic progression of the music. The sound, direction, and performance come together in fleeting moments of true perfection. Unfortunately, we are barely given a handful of these moments, enjoy them while they last.
Instead, Maestro stays focused to a fault on Lenny’s troubled marriage. It’s within this complicated drama Cooper and Carey Mulligan bring their characters to life. Both are proven performers and neither disappoint. However, even with a stellar and uber-committed turn, Bradley Cooper remains recognizable throughout the film. It’s as if an obsessive attention to detail surrounding every aspect of his performance feels overcalculated to the point that it no longer seems authentic. This creates a lingering distraction through an already tiresome and wordy two-hour endeavor.
I have all the respect in the world for Bradley Cooper. He’s a brilliant artist, capable of towering performances and stunning direction. Having been a big fan of his work for such a long time, I wanted to love Maestro. Perhaps my expectations were too high or perhaps they were just misplaced. Either way, Cooper’s sophomore effort struggles to find a unique voice and remains an unremarkable blip in an otherwise storied career.