“Crazy Heart” is a great movie. It has what few movies have – a story with a singular, beautiful arc; just the right amount of humor and sadness … just the right amount of humanity.
I liked everything about “Crazy Heart” – the cinematography, the writing, the acting. The motel rooms, bowling alleys, Bad Blake’s (Jeff Bridges) run down Houston home all move the story forward. Even the blue sky, wispy white clouds and the endless flat of the west advance the plot.
But mostly, I suppose, the greatness of this movie is in the writing and acting. The dialogue sounds like it was written by Hank Williams, Sr. The performances enhance the beautiful song. “Crazy Heart” is at home in the bowling alleys and bars. Watch the comfortable way Blake interacts with musicians and fans. The movie even seems real when it takes us to the world of big time country music where the entertainment is the product of a lot of work by talented, organized people.
I was anxious during “Crazy Heart.” I wanted Blake to succeed. I wanted Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal) and her son Buddy to be happy. I was glad to see Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell) understand that relationships are more important than fame and money. And, for the record, I just plain enjoy watching Robert Duvall.
This movie, like all great work, is about small things: Sweet talks with Blake but doesn’t insult him by buying lunch, Duvall’s character (Wayne), like most friends you fish with, is there to help when you really need it, and Jean, as do many single mothers, wonders if she can still afford to listen to her own crazy heart.
Blake is capable of great love and great selfishness. He also is possessed of a tremendous talent. But at age 57 the talent has taken him as far as it can. And it leaves him with a decision. Blake knows we are born breathing, but we have to choose to truly live.