It’s no secret that the life of legendary American conductor and composer Leonard Bernstein was one of many contradictions. He would conduct full orchestras to roaring audiences one night and then isolate himself to compose music the next. He could have told you as much about the works of classical composer Gustav Mahler as he could of jazz multi-hyphenate George Gershwin. He was deeply in love with a woman who would go on to be his wife, yet secretly (or not so secretly) had affairs with men up until his final days. The man was a singular but mysterious force whose public image and private life were constantly at odds, to the point that any story wishing to approach even a fraction of this duality was bound to be similarly elusive.
It’s admirable, then, that Maestro, Bradley Cooper’s ode to the musical giant and his sophomore outing as director and star, steers into this skid from frame one, beginning with a quote from the man himself: “A work of art does not answer questions, it provokes them; and its essential meaning is in the tension between the contradictory answers.” Indeed, Maestro does not simply exist within this tension but uses it for oxygen. Cooper – a talent who, like Bernstein, has proven to be quite dexterous – has designed an unconventional biopic that, through the lens of his tumultuous marriage, attempts to interrogate Bernstein’s duality within every facet of its filmmaking. In turn, the rising auteur has crafted a film that is, in and of itself, as uneven and confounding as its subject.
After beginning with an older Bernstein (Cooper sporting impressive makeup and prosthetics) briefly reflecting on his life at the piano, Maestro drastically shifts to the first real day of Bernstein’s career. With less than 12 hours’ notice, the young, fledgling musician has been called in to serve as replacement conductor for the New York Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall. His performance – which we bizarrely catch only a glimpse of – turns him into an overnight sensation. Very shortly after, the buzzing talent meets aspiring Chilean actress Felicia Montealegre (Carey Mulligan) at a party and the two immediately hit it off. Their high-energy banter funneled through their mush-mouthed accents makes it hard to discern exactly what they’re saying, but the connection is clear; both of them contain ambitious, artistic multitudes, not looking to be held down by society’s need to box them in.
Captured in stark black-and-white imagery and a 4:3 aspect ratio, Cooper and cinematographer Matthew Libatique channel a period-appropriate aesthetic for this first half of the story. The two allow for beautiful performances to breathe in extended long takes while still fueling every moment with fast-talking zingers, sweeping camera movements, and bold chiaroscuro. It’s a visually breathtaking display of technical mastery. However, amidst all the excitement, there’s a lack of connective tissue. Large chunks of Bernstein’s artistic and personal history go by in a flash, including his clearly implied but minimally shown love affair with musician David Oppenheim (Matt Bomer, looking cute as ever). Similarly, there is very little of Felicia without Lenny by her side. Surely, this cinematic honeymoon phase was intentional, but amidst its entertaining pace is a lack of compelling conflict.
It isn’t until Maestro’s second half, in which the Bernsteins’ middle-age melancholy transitions us into color, that the film fully inhabits Bernstein’s duality. Suddenly, a seemingly happy marriage has dissipated into resentment. As Lenny begins an affair with musician Tommy Cothran (Gideon Glick), Felicia grows distant and, soon after, spiteful. During one extended argument at Thanksgiving, Libatique’s previously fanciful camerawork is gone. In a static wide shot, Lenny and Felicia, at opposite ends of the frame, shout over each other with ferocity. “Your truth is a f**king lie,” Felicia exclaims. It’s an incredibly intense scene, anchored by Cooper and Mulligan’s exceptional performances and a change in directorial style that conveys more interiority from its characters.
However, for a second half that promises to pull the curtain back, the dirtier depths of Lenny and Felicia’s partnership still feel decidedly on the periphery; several shots, in fact, keep Felicia on the edges of the frame, lost in shallow depth of field. Once again, Lenny’s homosexual affair is given little screen time. Though certain moments articulate the tension of it all – one direct close-up of Mulligan detailing her regrets shines as one of the film’s few lucid moments – it can’t help but feel too clean for such a messy life. Bernstein’s seminal performance at Ely Cathedral serves as a moment of immense catharsis for the couple (technically captured with some of the best sound mixing of the year), leading directly into Felicia’s fight with breast cancer, but it feels unearned.
It’s impossible to deny that the craft on display in Maestro is immense, not just from Cooper, who has fully given himself not only to his performance as Bernstein but also to his stylistic evolution as a storyteller, but from every member of its cast and crew. In individual moments, a tender love story shines through with gorgeous cinematic language. However, as a whole, Maestro is too interested in revering its subject to feel like an excavation of his humanity. After watching this film, it’s unclear if anybody, Bernstein fan or otherwise, would walk away with a deeper understanding of his troubles. In that sense, Maestro is the ultimate contradiction, a film that acts as though it has pried its subject open without ever having gotten close to him in the first place.
Maestro had its North American premiere as the Spotlight Gala selection of the 2023 New York Film Festival. The film is set to debut in select theaters on November 22, 2023, followed by a worldwide streaming release on December 20, 2023, courtesy of Netflix.
Director: Bradley Cooper
Writers: Josh Singer, Bradley Cooper
Rated: R
Runtime: 129m
Though visually breathtaking and anchored by two stellar performances, Maestro stays too far removed from the dirtier depths of its subject matter to fully resonate.
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GVN Rating 7
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Larry Fried is a filmmaker, writer, and podcaster based in New Jersey. He is the host and creator of the podcast “My Favorite Movie is…,” a podcast dedicated to helping filmmakers make somebody’s next favorite movie. He is also the Visual Content Manager for Special Olympics New Jersey, an organization dedicated to competition and training opportunities for athletes with intellectual disabilities across the Garden State.