Reeder’s Movie Reviews: Maestro

Cooper’s choices as writer-director may have devolved into a disconnected “greatest hits” biopic–admittedly, some scenes could use more fluid transitions–but he mostly avoids that. The film has a discernable formal structure, and the pivotal scenes have emotional and narrative meaning. Respecting Bernstein’s prodigious musical output, they sometimes betray flights of fancy. In one memorable sequence, Lenny becomes one of the sailors in his 1944 musical On the Town. The duality of his attraction to men and fierce love for his wife intertwine in a suggestive dance set in a suspended world of imagination and desire. Fellini would have been proud of Cooper.

As a viewer, you can sense it coming. The earlier dancing camerawork gradually becomes more static, even distant at times. The restless Lenny and the self-possessed Felicia have to face some hard choices and crises in their relationship. One of them, a veritable eruption of previously unspoken assumptions and grievances, takes place in their apartment at The Dakota in New York City. Simply put, it’s an acting clinic on the part of the two leads, and it’s a stroke of savage irony that a certain giant balloon makes an appearance in the Thanksgiving Day parade outside their windows. (Cooper reportedly calibrated the entire scene to that moment.) 

An intense degree of preparation (and angst) went into one subsequent, climactic scene. The place is Ely Cathedral in England; the year is 1973; the work is Gustav Mahler’s Second Symphony (“Resurrection”). Copper shot it on location in one, continuous six-minute-long take, with a live orchestra (London Symphony), soloists, choir and extras. He worked with Gustavo Dudamel, the Music Director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and Yannick Nézet-Séguin, Music Director of the Philadelphia Orchestra and Metropolitan Opera, for six years to make the moment credible. He wanted to get it right and do justice to Bernstein’s passion for Mahler’s music. The result on film is detailed and riveting, if unconventional in its placement within the broader narrative. Cooper’s face reflects the commitment, anguish and exaltation of the conductor. If his mannerisms seem contrived, watch the video of the historical event (available on YouTube and sampled at the end of the movie). Cooper supplies the final touch at the end of the performance as the camera pulls back to ultimately reveal Felicia as she waits in the wings.

The last act of this cinematic theme-and-variations transports us to the late 1970s and the latter stages of the couple’s relationship. The wealth and credibility of the emotion on screen has been earned. Bernstein engages in a different kind of embrace–a literal embrace–that completes this simultaneous portrait of a creative artist and a complex marriage. 

Likewise, if you’ve seen last year’s Tár, in which the imperious title character (virtuosically portrayed by Cate Blanchett) rudely dismisses one of her students in a masterclass, you will appreciate Bernstein’s approach at Tanglewood, the Massachusetts institution he inhabited as a student and, later, as a conductor-mentor. His charisma never waned. 

In addition to Ely, Tanglewood, Carnegie Hall and The Dakota, Cooper makes effective use of the Fairfield, Connecticut house where the Bernstein family lived for many years. Production Designer Kevin Thompson (Ad Astra, The King of Staten Island) gets high marks for his meticulous attention to period detail spanning the 1940s into the 1970s. True to its time, the music, too, goes beyond Bernstein and Mahler. R.E.M. makes a telling–and amusing–appearance on the soundtrack, as Lenny stays in touch with a younger generation.   

In a movie so rich in characters and dialogue (for which Josh Singer shares credit with Cooper), several members of the supporting cast stand out. They include Matt Bomer (as David Oppenheim, a talented clarinetist and early Bernstein lover), Sarah Silverman (as the title character’s no-nonsense sister, Shirley), and Maya Hawke (as Jamie, the oldest of the Bernstein children, who shares an exquisitely awkward conversation with her famous father about his sexuality). We even get to hear from the legendary journalist whose name graces the College of Communication at Washington State University. As with any biopic, we can take issue with the dramatic choices and liberties pursued by the writers and directors. With Maestro, we can also cite the differences in the acting styles of the two principals, however talented. Mulligan has a natural, unaffected technique that allows her to disappear into her character. Cooper, so committed to this project, has a more formal manner. He impresses with the execution of his portrayal. In the end, he manages to wear all of his hats here–co-producer (with Steven Spielberg and Martin Scorsese), co-writer, director and lead actor–with real dexterity. Maestro is suffused with the music, mannerisms, intensity, complexity and larger-than-life persona of its subject. Whether you’re already familiar with his story or not, Leonard Bernstein lives here.