Netflix's Maestro film opens with a shot of Bradley as an aging Leonard Bernstein in bright, lively color. The establishing shot is one of the contrasts, the stark contrasts in the melancholic melody played by an aging Bernstein on piano, the technicolor shot on an aging man, and even the song itself protends, sounding more like a lament as Bernstein reminisces on his life and Montealegre. Bradley is all in as Bernstein immediately from this opening scene, embodying the composer/conductor so well it's freakish, even through the troublesome Bostonian accent. Leonard takes us back to reminiscing via interview, and with a quick snap to black and white, we are there.
However, to say that Bradley as Bernstein is only a foil to Mulligan as Montealegre Cohn would cheapen both performances. Carey's subtlety in her portrayal, even some of her familiar head nods and body language, give Maestro a warmer and measured pace. Mulligan injects an earnestness and groundedness that is much needed in this film. Mulligan imbues her portrayal of Felicia with more life, fire, and a pinch of stubbornness through a quiet ferocity that feels potent. Carey, once again, makes her portrayal of an actual person much more realistic than the script allows. The real Montealegre-Cohn was well-known for her social activism, free-spirited nature, and outspokenness. Not just her keen sense of style, being an actress, and being Mrs. Bernstein. That, of course, is not featured in this film, since this story on Bernstein, his music, his affairs, and their marriage and love story. Carey's acting prowess still made this character the heart of the film. That's not to say that Bradley, as Bernstein, is not captivating on screen because he is. His grand and louder-than-life portrayal shines, but more so in the later half of the picture once Bernstein has achieved fame and aged. There are so many scenes where you get swept up in the drama of it all, forgetting that it's Bradley as his body movements have also changed. Yes, Cooper truly disappears into the role, and one scene, in particular, had goosebumps going down my spine and up my arms. A filming choice made by Cooper to recreate a pivotal and well-documented moment in Leonard's life could've gone wrong. Yet, the recreation of Bernstein’s iconic performance of Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony at Ely Cathedral became my favorite scene in the film. It was loud, transcendent, grand, soaring, and, overall, just beautiful. I audibly gasped at the direction, score, and cinematography. Everything intertwined perfectly in this scene, and nothing was trying to outdo each other. It's also worth noting that the audience at its AFI closing night premiere, where I screened it, clapped after the scene ended.
It's worth noting that some of the performances from minor characters like Maya Hawke as the eldest daughter, Janie Bernstein, and Sarah Silverman playing Leonard's sister aren't fully fleshed out. Silverman, though, makes better use of her respective role and adds some of her comedic charm to the role. In a pivotal scene in which Michael Urie is a dancer, Jerome Robbins dances in 'On The Town' and foreshadows things yet to come between the couple by drawing out the tension. Urie's unique talents as a Broadway actor are a highlight here.
Bernstein's queerness and identity are abstract in so many ways and handled with kid gloves. Much of it is left up to the viewer to interpret. Leonard's dalliances with other Men became background fodder, just glossed over. There were also moments I felt Felicia was a tad too kind towards his behavior, until the Thanksgiving Parade fight, and she goes in on him with a Snoopy float in the background. Overall, Maestro lacked some refinement in its direction and script. It's more of a visual narrative, a character-driven work, and, most importantly, a tonal painting of a complex power couple and the devasting complexities of love. It somehow works out in the end, and it's a delight.
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