An (Ironically) Uninspired Effort

Rating: 6/10 (29 November 2014)

Despite not being a total genius like Stephen Hawking, everyone should take pleasure in living during a time when they have their own Einstein or Edison. The Theory of Everything tells the tragic, yet inspiring, story of Hawking from his youthful Cambridge years to the miserable deterioration of his body through the following decades by ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis). A brilliant mind, this man has birthed a totally new path for quantum theory/mechanics that is so crucial to our understanding of the universe—his ceaseless search for the answers or just that single convenient explanation of what this largely enigmatic world truly is and how it came to be. Are the answers simply derived from our perceptions of time and space? There's no denying that Hawking is an ingenious and fairly eccentric individual, but does his life exactly warrant another Oscar bait of a biopic? Or rather, does it translate well?
Well, without even any attempt at establishing an authentic and aesthetically distinct atmosphere, The Theory of Everything rushes us right into the romance as soon as it commences. Main character attends a crowded party with his more enthusiastic friend. He sights a beautiful girl. Girl, out of miraculous coincidence, notices him with a fancy as well and learns his name. Boom, they meet there and then. Storytelling can't get any lazier and more formulaic than that. Moreover, that concisely introduces us to the tone and style the rest of the film will assume. The screenplay is simplistically boiled down to please crowds with every inspirational platitude and heartwarming comment. As a deliberate tearjerker through and through, it will oftentimes slip in a brief humorous exchange of dialogue to calm the weepers down. Fundamentally, the script is highly predictable in its structure and manner—something you would expect a traditional mindset to adore, which includes the Academy. Bless its heart, the film is so naïve and overly optimistic that its complementary visual appearance/cinematography turns out so bright and unremarkable that might suit it more for a BBC show.
This is exactly the result I expected from another entry in the period piece/biographic genre that follows an extraordinary human being but tries too hard to make him sympathetic and relatable to audiences. We witness a very saintly portrait of Stephen Hawking—never losing temper or making moral mistakes. Even when touching on the more controversial aspects of Hawking's beliefs like his attitude towards religion and the "Creator," the picture executes this all in a way that appeases everyone once again and sweeps any atheistic ideas under the rug quickly, surely believing that such material might prove to be too condescending or alienating for its viewers.
On the other hand, the majestically melodic score by Jóhann Jóhannsson remains one of the film's greatest elements, but the sheer exhibition of acting talent here is definitely what takes the spotlight. Of course, there's the showy, but very effective, performance from Eddie Redmayne, which is juxtaposed with a much more subtle and nuanced performance from Felicity Jones who wears the mien of utter exhaustion and deep concern with her throughout a depressing, albeit very admirable and encouraging, life that's spent nurturing her "companion." It's these two wonderful performances that provoke wild emotion from moviegoers and essentially take the movie beyond the level of generic fodder that it occasionally comes frighteningly close to. At the end of the day, if you're one to allow sentimentality to take over and thus excuse a transparent lack of inspired, brave artistry, then The Theory of Everything might very well win you over. Otherwise, this is the kind of film that might possibly be included in numerous discussions during awards season and then placed into the group of forgettable made-for-Oscars biopics a year later.