MADness—the Blog

“Where’d all those songs come from?”
“Life, unfortunately.”

Bad Blake has covered a lot of miles in his 57 years, and it shows.  One look at the guy and you know he’s hit every bump along the road.  He’s got nothing left but a ’78 Suburban taking him from town to town, from bowling alleys to bars, where he plays a few songs from long ago.

Bad Blake is a role that fits Jeff Bridges like an old shirt pulled from the laundry bag.  Comfortable, nothing too fancy.  It may not have been through the wash, but that don’t seem to matter.  Bridges seems as easy-going as any actor working today, without an ounce of vanity.  He’s an everyman, a good-looking, roguish type who’s been around.  You might find him anywhere.  He’s the kind you can kick back, relax, and spend some time with.

Crazy Heart may not be the most ambitious story, but it knows better than to try too hard.  There’s not a false moment through the whole thing.  Bridges is in every scene, and half the time in close-up, playing a has-been singer-songwriter having a hard time on the road.  It’s a soulful performance.  Maggie Gyllenhaal is the mother of a four-year-old son, torn between her desire for the older guy, her loneliness, and her hopes not to make the same mistakes she’s made before with men.  Colin Farrell is rock solid as a country star.

The film’s worth seeing for the music alone.  I tend to tolerate country—it’s hardly my favorite—but if it sounded more like this, I’d be a bigger fan.

I don’t really give a damn about awards (even if sometimes I pretend that I do).  But they do have a show coming up in a few weeks and they’ve gotta give one of those litte statues to somebody for best performance by an actor.  It’d be real nice if this time—at long last—they gave one to Jeff Bridges.