Maestro Review

Does Bradley Cooper see himself as a master at work? Distinguished at what? Hiding from Marvel fans despite appearing in their slop for a decade is a notable achievement. Credit where it is undoubtedly due, the post-The Hangover works of Cooper are varied as he reaches further and further into the pot of dependable leading roles. Maestro sees his commitment to film expanded even further, the sting of A Star is Born falling short at the Academy Awards still whirring around the leading man who takes on the life of Leonard Bernstein, the exceptional conductor who changed the pace and perception of conductors across the globe. He is the reason Andre Rieu releases yearly Christmas albums. Take that as you will. 

Take Maestro too, though, a cobbled-together experience with more than a few out-there moments hoping to gift Cooper an Academy Award. It never feels right to label a performance as bait, though this has all the momentum and energy of just that. With Carey Mulligan and Sarah Silverman enjoying some early scenes in the black and white stylishness, Maestro uses its colour palette as nothing more than a passage of time which gives Cooper the chance to show he knows how to work in both. Bernstein is brought to the forefront as a man driven by anger. Are the best not always driven by such? The rage which bubbles away as a chance to plant yourself as a true great – and though Cooper cannot quite extract this, there are a handful of scenes, particularly with a storming Mulligan performance, which provides a hopeful look into this mentality.  

Music can move people, though picking apart the people who made it reveals little. How much we as viewers learn of the incredible works Bernstein was responsible for is surprisingly irrelevant when seeing the passion Cooper brings to the screen. Strangely enough, and despite the lack of prosthetics in these early moments, Cooper is unrecognisable. What we expect of him is completely removed and he takes on Bernstein well. What he forgets to adapt is the heart and flavour which guides music – he shows rather frequently that Bernstein was a man moved by sound and the emotive range it could bring, though shies away somewhat from truly giving it its dues. Maestro maintains a steady course though devolves almost immediately into a highlights reel which never gets to grips with the man himself.  

Instead, we are supposed to be moved by the snippets, reeled in by the dramatics of a lead performance clawing for acclaim. Whether it captures a man or caricature is unclear at times, and though Cooper loses himself in this performance he also loses a sense of the grandeur Bernstein brought through his thoughts on the art form. Heart drives creativity and though Cooper may be driven by his own to adapt a lesser-mentioned man of creative endurance, Maestro is not the great gift it believes itself to be. Static camera work and reserved interiors bring out a series of increasingly stagnant rooms for tensions to bubble over. Maestro is no master but showcases the desire for the creative process, and how it can ruin and raise the lives of the creator and those around them.