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'Maestro': Bradley Cooper's Biopic of Leonard Bernstein Examines the Man Trapped Under the Phenomenon

The actor-director makes the film equally about his wife and their troubled marriage.
Tatsam Mukherjee
Jan 05 2024
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The actor-director makes the film equally about his wife and their troubled marriage.
A scene from Maestro. Photo: Screengrab from official trailer/YouTube/Netflix.
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In a throwaway scene in Bradley Cooper’s Maestro, a film built on the marriage of legendary musician and conductor Leonard Bernstein (Cooper) and his wife, actor Felicia Montealegre (Carey Mulligan) – we see the protagonist partaking in (what looks like) cocaine. He is surrounded by his manager and a student, who, it’s also hinted, is his lover. In the scene, as we see Bernstein not just taking drugs but also holding up the tray and serving his manager and the young man, what stands out is how bereft of judgement it all feels. The way the camera (by cinematographer Matthew Libatique) frames the three characters in the middle of a clammy, crowded rave, the filmmaking doesn’t seem to be casting aspersions on Bernstein. The scene is not preceded by overemphasising Bernstein’s inner turmoil (he had been living away from his wife and kids by then), correlating his drug habit to it, and thereby ‘explaining’ it. It’s a sequence that is a testament to how clear-eyed Cooper is in Maestro – seeing the man trapped under the musical phenomenon, but also not trying to merely contain his life and legacy into a few words, scenes, and moments.

Cooper (who co-wrote the film with Josh Singer) realises the futility of simplifying and condensing a person’s legacy into a feature-length film, so he keeps alluding to events that took place in their life between the ‘scenes’ in the film. As Leonard finds prominence and worldwide acceptance in his late 30s, we see Felicia standing in the wings under his gargantuan shadow. When Leonard announces he’s completed writing a piece of score while being at home on holiday after a long world tour, Felicia quietly gets up from the living room, slips out of the window and jumps into the pool. It’s a whimsical, child-like action, but one that also conveys the suffocation she’s been feeling while being married to him, which has slowly built up over time. The scene doesn’t end there; the camera comes back to Leonard’s face who lets out a tiny laugh at Felicia’s incredulous reaction, only to come to terms with all his actions that have driven her to this.

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Bradley Cooper, who announced himself as a first-rate director in his debut, A Star Is Born (2018), showcases his singular and precise directorial voice in Maestro too. The early portions of Leonard and Felicia’s resemble a fairytale musical from the ‘50s – such is the sweeping scale, when things seem to be happening at a frightening pace. In an early scene, we see Leonard getting the phone call to conduct with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra at the Carnegie Hall (after the original conductor falls ill) – and in one unbroken shot, he goes from his loft to the much-revered performance arena. Similarly, during Leonard and Felicia’s courtship, the film goes from their acquaintance-ship to him showcasing his musical theatre work to her in an inspired sequence. The sequence ends with white bed sheets flying over them on stage, to the bed sheet over their feet in one clean cut – telling us everything about their growing fondness and intimacy.

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However, once the marriage gets going, Libatique’s camera becomes less vivacious. It seems to be observing both Leonard and Felicia, staying on them for a few seconds longer after a ‘scene’ has ended – documenting the unspoken feelings when they stopped paying attention to each other. Like most marriage stories, even this one has a stellar confrontation between Leonard and Felicia, when he comes home for a Thanksgiving dinner. It’s a raw, ruthless duel of words, impeccably performed by both Cooper and Mulligan.

A recurring complaint with Cooper’s film has been that it doesn’t focus on Bernstein’s musical exploits. To be the devil’s advocate here, instead of making a birth-to-death biopic, I can see why Cooper was dazzled by Leonard and Felicia’s love story, offering a more in-depth peek into the man, and helps us understand him better, than any montage of seeing him perform. It’s a bold choice – making a film on the life of a virtuoso – where his life’s work is buried into the background, as his domestic quarrels rise to the fore. However, Cooper seems to know exactly the film he’s making and dives head-long into it with the same passion with which Bernstein would let the music flow through him while conducting.

The result is an exceptionally acted film, including the ancillary characters essayed by Matt Bomer and Maya Hawke, who plays his daughter Jamie. Most of these actors get that one scene, where they communicate their feelings without words. When Leonard introduces Felicia to David (Bomer) – his ex-lover, David looks at them with sorrow in his eyes and a smile on his face. Similarly, when Jamie is told to ignore the rumours about Leonard being involved with his younger students, you see her nodding, while also realising what kind of man her father really is.

It would be too easy to say that Cooper means this film to be an acting showcase for himself, channelling Bernstein’s throaty voice, his relaxed body language, and a mind that could never stop racing, going through projects, performances, spouses, lovers, experiences, always anxious to get to the next thing. If anything, Cooper’s performance as Leonard Bernstein is the opposite of a vanity project. And we know this for how Cooper entrusts the stage to Mulligan in the second hour, making Felicia the protagonist of the film, as Leonard remains in the background.

It’s Mulligan’s deeply-affecting performance as Felicia that lies at the core of Maestro. Mulligan, known for her stoic face while depicting total and complete devastation in films like An Education (2009), Wildlife (2018),  employs it to great effect here, wordlessly conveying the humiliation of being wedded to a genius. Like in his directorial debut, Cooper seems smitten by the idea of unpacking the loneliness of icons and examining them for all their contradictions, transgressions, and what lights up their mind every morning. It’s fitting then that Cooper’s film becomes a tribute to Felicia – a choice Bernstein would have approved of, even if the film is named after him.

This article went live on January fifth, two thousand twenty four, at forty-nine minutes past seven in the evening.

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