Crazy Heart (M)
Director: Scott Cooper
Stars: Jeff Bridges, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Robert Duvall
Rating: 3.5/5
111-minutes, now screening
In the opening scenes of Scott Cooper’s debut feature film, Crazy Heart, it’s immediately obvious that Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) is at the nadir of a successful career.
He drives a battered pickup truck – Bess – swills whisky straight from a bottle, stands outside his latest gig at a remote bowling alley belt and pants zipper undone, and pours the sickening yellow results of long-haul, toilet-break free driving from a large orange juice bottle onto the bitumen of the car park. M
ention of former protégé-turned-superstar, Tommy Sweet (Colin Farrell) is inevitably by the roadies inside, prompts Blake rapidly to change the subject. When Bad steps up to the microphone, however – adoring crowd before him, and just as star-struck backing band behind – it quickly becomes obvious why the ageing country and western star’s lights haven’t quite dimmed.
He holds the entire room in thrall, even as he slips outside mid-song to heave his guts – and sunglasses – into a garbage bin.
Later, in an interview with much younger reporter, Jean Craddock (Maggie Gyllenhaal), Bad is surprised to recognise feelings of desire that go far beyond those towards his normally fading groupies.
But any relationship with Jean comes only with the caveats of Bad’s alcoholism and other demons. First-time director, Cooper, manages to elicit some stand-out performance from his cast – from Gyllenhaal’s understandably overcautious single-mum, and Robert Duvall’s stoic, sober best mate, to the simply marvellous, gravel-throated Bridges as Blake, offering grittier echoes of his earlier, more mellow role as The Dude in The Big Lebowski.
Oh, and there are some excellent songs from Bridges and Farrell to spice up this very good film.
War saga packs a mighty blast
The Hurt Locker (MA15+)
Director: Kathryn Bigelow
Stars: Jeremy Renner, Anthony Mackie, Brian Geraghty
Rating: 4/5
131-minutes, now screening
Kathryn Bigelow – often touted as the ex-wife of uber-blockbuster James Cameron – has established a reputation in her own right as a no-nonsense director of mostly testosterone-charged film and television – from tense war thrillers (K19: the Widowmaker) and episodes of Homicide: Life on the Streets, to the pinnacle of Hollywood neo-masculinity, Point Break.
So it’s not surprising that Bigelow’s most recent outing, The Hurt Locker, examines the limits or lack thereof in the ability of men to rein in their confidence and cockiness. The metaphorical realm suggested in the title is where unfortunates are sent in the event of an explosion, and in the lives of US Army Explosive Ordinance Disposal unit members, such big bangs are just another part of everyday life.
When unit leader Thompson (Guy Pearce in an unfortunately brief performance) is sent permanently to the Hurt Locker, the careful Sergeant JT Sanborn (Anthony Mackie) and fatalistic Specialist Owen Eldridge (Brian Geraghty) initially are ruffled when their new leader arrives, cocksure and dangerously reckless.
Staff Sergeant William James (Jeremy Renner) is less foolhardy than fearless, to the point of unnecessarily risking the lives his charges. Roaming the streets of Baghdad (with the outskirts of Jordan standing in for the real thing), Bigelow’s film slowly reveals the everyday routine of one of the world’s most dangerous occupations: locating and diffusing improvised explosive devices, all the while remaining wary of a population in which hostiles are virtually imperceptible but frighteningly real.
An exhausting, sometimes bleak experience, this is harrowing filmmaking; and with all concerned delivering superb performances, The Hurt Locker offers a very legitimate threat to ex-hubby’s Avatar in the Oscars stakes.
