Missed opportunity but still a good "male" movie

Rating: 6/10 (8 September 2010)

I've always had a soft spot for movies about sunset, washed up males with nothing to prove and even less to say about their downfall. It's a game of empathy I guess, or may be not. Jeff Bridges' "Bad" –"you'll read my real name in my tombstone" – Blake is that kind of man. Alcoholic, sick to the bone, twilight country singer – back to the day when country seemed to hold a darker, rustier kind of edge to it. Doesn't say much, drinks his way to the evening – though "days and nights look the same" – chain smokes and plays those dead end low joints of even lower turn outs. Doesn't compose anymore, a good old best of track list seems to (barely) pay the bills.
In other words imagine the Wrestler with a Fender Tremolux. Same old age anxiety, same bitterness, and same barrel-bottomed dignity. If only Mr. Scott Cooper had been the kind of director Mr. Aronofsky is. Scared of the shadows, reluctant to allow unpleasantness roll the misery dice of Bridges' superb performance, Mr. Cooper chooses the conventional, trodden path. It's fine by me, the breathing space is there, the juxtaposition of dark interiors and bright, open space Midwest works right, Ms. Gylenhaal's never been better (or prettier), the slow-handed finale wrenches your insides like any good old love story should do. It's just the opportunity for a great American picture missed that aches a bit. It'll be all right. Us weary kinders will get by.