Maestro opens in select theaters November 22 and streams on Netflix December 20. This review is based on a screening at the 2023 BFI London Film Festival.
In Maestro, a cigarette is never far from the lips of Leonard Bernstein (Bradley Cooper). Whether he's playing piano, on the phone, chatting up admirers, or being interviewed, the effervescent musician can barely go a few minutes without lighting one up. It's an anxious crutch, something to keep the American composer busy while grappling with the weight of his and other people's expectations. It might seem like an innocuous detail of the way writer, director, and star Cooper portrays Bernstein: He chain smokes, who cares? But Cooper executes this habit with such an addictive flair, and Carey Mulligan smokes with such a melancholic elegance as Bernstein’s wife Felicia Montealegre-Cohen, that both actors say so much about their characters' contrasting frames of mind with just a puff, slow drag, or a flick.
That's part of the power of Cooper's sophomore directorial feature, a bold and enticing feat of filmmaking that playfully uses the cinematic language – as well as Berstein's extensive musical catalog – to paint an intricate and intimate portrait of an American icon and the most important woman in his life. His style has certainly matured since his debut A Star Is Born, and grappling with another musical film, he's taken more creative liberties that more than pay off.
The first part of Maestro is presented like a black and white movie that would have been popular in 1943. That’s when the then-25-year-old assistant conductor is called up at the last minute to lead the New York Philharmonic Orchestra at Carnegie Hall, after a guest conductor has fallen ill. Bernstein seamlessly swoops from his loft apartment into the dress circle of the famous theater venue thanks to a dramatic aerial shot that tracks his movements from above and then zooms in for a closeup to catch the childlike excitement on his face. Cooper absolutely loses himself in the character – despite fears, his prosthetic won't raise an eyebrow – bringing a giddy theatricality and an always present glint in his eyes.
From there, cinematographer Matthew Libatique's whimsical camerawork captures the buzz of Bernstein's early success as a musician and Broadway composer before introducing Mulligan's Felicia. She steps off a bus and walks into the light of a street lamp like she's a heroine in one of Bernstein's musicals. When she meets Lenny, their chemistry is immediately intoxicating, reinforced by romantic framing and monotone texture that’ll make your heart swell. The banter between Cooper and Mulligan is so naturalistic it could almost be improvised. Maybe it was, because even with their clipped accents and melodious enunciation, these conversations never feel labored. But this heightened reality – where the budding lovers go from watching On The Town to taking part in one of its dance numbers – doesn’t shy away from the exquisite pain of loving such a big personality.
The fact Bernstein had loving relationships with men is a major part of the film, and Matt Bomer delivers a small but achingly heartfelt performance in a scene where David, Lenny's clarinet player-partner, meets Felicia for the first time. The fake niceties between the old lover and new are gut-wrenching to watch, but the tension gets even more potent when Cooper switches gears in the second half.
Shifting from black and white to a New Hollywood color aesthetic, the now middle-aged couple find it hard to be with each other while catering to Lenny's professional and sexual desires. The temperature has cooled and Mulligan astutely captures Felicia's growing frustration – not just at being in her husband's shadow, but suffering the indignity of his affairs in plain sight. The use of "Jet Song" from Bernstein's West Side Story to score the arrival of Lenny's young male lover at their family home is particularly apt. But Cooper understands that silence and simplicity is sometimes the best option to let the story play out, none more so than an intense Thanksgiving argument between the couple that uses a Snoopy parade balloon as comic relief.
Cooper rarely recreates any scenes of Bernstein conducting; this is a musical biopic less concerned with the skills of music-making and more the personal demands of being a great artist. But a late-stage performance shows Cooper's complete and utter commitment to doing Bernstein's prowess justice. Maestro is an excellent character study of not just a celebrated American icon, but the sacrifices required to love one.
