Crazy Heart vs The Fabulous Baker Boys

Crazy Heart fits into an odd genre of movie. Like Leaving Las Vegas, The Wrestler, and Million Dollar Baby, it’s a dark story told in the gentlest way possible. I mean, everybody knows from the opening frames that The Wrestler is a tragic tale, but doesn’t it also feel kind of sweet? The characters were miserable, but not pathetic, which is key. I thought the same thing about Crazy Heart. It seems impossible that these characters will find happiness in the allotted two hours, but damned if I didn’t want them to.

Crazy Heart stars my favorite actor, Jeff Bridges. There’s little I could say about that guy that I haven’t already said in exaggerated terms over the years, or that anyone else hasn’t said about this performance. What I found, in Crazy Heart, is that Jeff Bridges lives every moment of the film in truth. There are clichés in his character, and in the script, but man, sometimes those things happen, and I should know, because I saw them happen to Jeff Bridges in Crazy Heart. Bridges is Bad Blake, a Country music singer/songwriter whose glory days are a couple decades behind him. His dip had nothing to do with a lack of talent, but rather his alcoholism, womanizing, stubbornness, and undoubtedly, overall bad luck. Bad Blake looks like a homeless barfly Waylon Jennings. Rarely has an actor looked like this on film without looking like he’s wearing a costume. Bridges seems completely at home in Bad Blake’s clothes and beard. He staggers everywhere he goes, leans into the microphone like he’s going to fall over (sometimes he does), and vomits so much you can practically smell his breath. And guess what? He’s a good singer anyway, and has enough stage presence to keep his tiny audiences (in bowling alleys and dive bars) held rapt. Like the Ram in The Wrestler, Bad Blake has enough of a history that he still commands respect in certain circles, there’s just not enough money to back it up. Blake sees a potential bump in his career if he could record with Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell), a younger, more popular singer who used to play in Blake’s band. Blake’s manager—who lives way better than Blake—keeps him booked in dumps, but would rather he retire to a life of writing songs for other performers from the safety of his own home (it’s also obvious that the manager’s ten percent of Bad Blake’s earnings is not much). Crazy Heart follows Bad Blake on tour, driving his shitty truck town-to-town, trying to write new songs, trying to stay awake, drinking way too much, and maybe falling in love.

He’s been married four (or five, depending who you ask) times, and has just fallen hard for Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal), a reporter he meets in Texas. At first, their relationship seems to be moving too quickly. But Jean, though attracted to Blake’s talent and the vestiges of his charisma, is more cautious, viewing herself safely as a fling, both out of self-preservation and concern for her young son. But Blake keeps coming around between gigs, inviting Jean on the road, making promises to drink less and clean up his act.

Crazy Heart is the first film from director and writer Scott Cooper. It’s sincere and authentic, and wisely keeps the plot focused time-wise. There’s no Walk Hard-style years-spanning story here. Just the fifty-seventh year (give or take) of a man, to paraphrase him (via songwriter T-Bone Burnett), who used to be somebody, but now is somebody else.

Jeff Bridges played a role kind of like this about—cough—twenty years ago, in The Fabulous Baker Boys. The difference being, of course, that Jack Baker skipped the “be somebody” part on his way to becoming someone else. The Baker boys (the other is older brother Beau) are lounge singers, and have seen their ups and downs, but never true stardom or much money. They play lounges in airports, hotels, bars, you name it. They keep it classy, playing the standards and making the most of their brothers-playing-dueling-pianos kitsch factor. But the bookings are coming less frequently, and the moneys not as good, and don’t you know, you gotta have a pretty girl singer if you wanna make it in this business.

So they hold auditions. Hilarious, ridiculous, endless auditions (Jennifer Tilly’s is a wonder to behold). And then Suzie Diamond walks in. She’s not the best singer out there, and probably not that well suited for the Baker Boys’ act, but she is the most Michelle Pfeifferish, and thus turns the movie on its head. The boys get the first and last thirds of the movie to themselves, but the middle belongs to Michelle Pfeiffer.  Like Bad Blake, Suzie Diamond’s name is a fake and she plans on keeping it that way. She smokes too much, talks in double-entendres, dresses inappropriately, and sings every lounge song like it’s Makin’ Whoopee (and we all know how she sings that one). Jack falls for her, much to his cynical dismay, giving The Fabulous Baker Boys a little warmth in what is otherwise a pretty cold movie. It’s like a film noir with no murder.

The Fabulous Baker Boys and Crazy Heart both have an extra scene at the end. A little coda to catch us up in the life of the Jeff Bridges character and the woman who inspired a song or two. In each movie, the scene is unnecessary. We could do with a little mystery. But if there’s any actor I’ll put up with an encore from, it’s Jeff Bridges.

Crazy Heart: A

The Fabulous Baker Boys: A-