Maestro review: Carey Mulligan gives her best performance to date in the biopic about Leonard Bernstein
Leonard Bernstein was a person. The first really outstanding American pianist, conductor, and composer; well recognized for his West Side Story contributions. In addition, he was a loving spouse to Felicia Montealegre, the Chilean-Costa Rican actress and social crusader who gained notoriety for her appearances in Broadway and TV plays. The new Netflix original film Maestro focuses on only one of these sides: a lighthearted but often restless desire to discover the reality of a very gifted individual at its core.
It’s about Leonard and Felicia in Maestro.
This is exactly what it does—Maestro opens with an aging Bernstein reflecting on his life and the time he spent with Felicia. Bradley Cooper—who also plays the conductor in the film—directs, produces, and co-writes it with Josh Singer. Despite occasional moments of creative genius, Maestro’s treatment of the subject—which mostly consists of dramatic revelations—is very flat and lifeless. I longed for the movie to transcend its pompous and starry-eyed approach to the issue, leading the audience to examine Leonard and Felicia’s complex marriage—but to no avail.
Never before has Carey Mulligan been better.
Carey Mulligan’s portrayal of Felicia is the sole wave of life that has blood coursing through its veins. As the lady whose performance in the marriage to Leonard sets the foundation for every other performance she will ever give on stage or film, she is just amazing. Mulligan brings warmth, emotion, and a much-needed sense of urgency to a picture that rightfully ought to give the topic more weight than the director. The pinnacle of Maestro is undoubtedly a very dramatic sequence in which Mulligan’s Felicia ultimately chooses to show the guy the mirror, unleashing a worm of a scene that will silence him for the first time in years. “What you’re saying is a f*cking lie. Every room loses vitality because of it, she growls. Mulligan’s career performance is this.
I was reminded of Tár, the sad companion work to Maestro from the previous year, which approached the theme of creative brilliance from a much more detached perspective. This unrest seems oddly out of place. With all the grand scheme of things that takes place in period-appropriate black and white throughout the first half of the movie, Maestro is undoubtedly Oscar-friendly. The difficulties this gifted man could have had in leading an orchestra in an era when European conductors were given preference are shown in only one scene. Leonard was homosexual and Jewish. In a previous scene, when his lover David (Matt Bomer) first meets Felicia, a somber expression appears on his face. Years later, after their relationship’s mystery is destroyed by an especially bland exchange of words, he will return.
Concluding remarks
Together with Kevin Thompson’s masterful production design, Matthew Libatique captures Maestro with electrifying impact, giving the movie a vibrant, lively feel. But the fundamental problem with Maestro is that the story becomes bogged down in specifics on his public appearances and his life in the past. As a result, we never see the creative spark that keeps him going or the successes that align with his professional path. Maestro’s point of view is very flawed as it never allows us to see Leonard’s creative brilliance—only the performance that sits at the heart of his marriage. The inconsistencies never quite sink in. Unfortunately, it seems as if Leonard’s queerness is being implicitly judged in the interpretation that shows Felicia and Leonard being hauled off one another on stage. Here, Cooper’s acting comes to life more fiercely than it has ever done, and that cathedral scene is really amazing. I hoped Maestro had devoted a little more time to his brilliant insight.
