The Unfettered Critic – February 2024

WHEN WE HEARD that actor/writer/director Bradley Cooper was planning a bio-pic about Leonard Bernstein, we were stoked. Bernstein stands as perhaps America’s greatest conductor/composer, listed historically and globally among icons such as Mozart and Beethoven. As for Cooper, we praised his abilities in this column in 2018, for his work in A Star Is Born. So we were surprised when initial articles about Cooper’s Bernstein production focused on…

…his nose.

Seriously.

A gaggle of over-sensitive souls expressed anger about publicity stills of Cooper fitted with a realistic Bernstein-esque schnoz crafted by special makeup artist Kazu Hiro. We’re not sure whether the complainers thought Bernstein should be portrayed by an actor who actually had a Bernstein-esque nose, or if they thought Cooper’s nose should appear au naturel, its dimensions left to the audience’s imagination.

No matter. Once the movie debuted, such talk faded, replaced by the inevitable suggestions that Hiro and his magnificently effective nose be nominated for an Academy Award. Sigh.

With the nose debacle quashed, reviewers sniffed out more traditional redolence: was Cooper’s work sweet, or odorific? The acting—particularly that displayed both by Cooper and by co-star Carey Mulligan as Bernstein’s wife Felicia Montealegre, was proclaimed top-notch. And Cooper’s artistic directing choices were universally praised as impressive. We agree. Cooper’s dedication to getting everything exactly right is marvelous—as perfectly epitomized in a breathtaking six-minute sequence of the actor actually—and brilliantly—conducting the London Symphony Orchestra. This sequence alone deserves multiple levels of Oscar-worthy praise.

Which brings us to the screenplay, written by Cooper and Josh Singer.

Sigh. Again.

First of all, let us admit, dear reader, that the script is magnificent. And that’s the problem. Confused? Please read on:

With cooperation from the Bernstein family—and a ton of research—Lenny’s scripted “story” is accurate. But the aspect of Bernstein’s life that Cooper chose to shed light on narrowly anchors on Lenny and Felicia’s disorderly relationship. For a movie ostensibly about the greatest composer/conductor of modern times, surprisingly little is displayed about musical accomplishment. Oh, it’s there in the background, with periodic mentions and fleeting hints of his familiar musical refrains. But based on what we encounter on the screen, the name of the movie should be Lenny and Felicia. We get it. Lenny was a jerk. Felicia was a martyr. Fine. But if you want to hear how West Side Story came into existence as Bernstein collaborated with Stephen Sondheim, it’s not here. Or wonder about creative hints on his score for the classic film On the Waterfront? Nope: not here. Or what went into building Wonderful Town for the Broadway stage? You’ve got it—that’s not here either (although there is a nice bit of choreography related to the production On the Town).

And while we see reverberations of Bernstein’s life pre-Felicia, and hints of earlier “romantic relationships,” Cooper doesn’t give us insight into Lenny’s feelings about those years, or what made him the man he was, or even why his sentiment for Felicia was so strong that he committed the rest of his emotional life to her (regardless of blatant, to her and to us, dalliances over the years).

So that’s the essential problem with Maestro. The focus is too narrow. It’s a brilliant film, and everyone involved should be lauded for their work. Except perhaps for the writers who avoided the story that we think viewers were hoping to see.

Expect Maestro to be nominated for multiple Academy Awards. And to win a few, if not all. But if you’re like us, we bet you won’t want to see it twice.