Crazy Heart
What kind of crazy fucked up world do we live in where the phony country music in a movie is better than everything on the hit parade?
I bought that Alpha Band album. I didn’t think T Bone Burnett was that good. But I guess he developed. Which is why all our pop stars don’t have to be thirteen and appeal to those popping zits.
Worse, you’ve got oldsters behind the fresh faces creating what they THINK the little kids want. And it’s so fake you want to puke. If you’re paying attention at all.
Supposedly "Crazy Heart" was going straight to the small screen. But now it’s been rescued and is this year’s "Slumdog Millionaire".
It’s not.
I’m not even sure I can recommend you see it.
But I will say I’d be surprised if Jeff Bridges is not nominated for an Academy Award. Sure, he seems to be channeling Kris Kristofferson, but watching you don’t see the movie star behind the mask. He appears to be the burned out former minor success who’s cruising the country in his old GM truck, just trying to eke out a living.
And what a living it is.
Playing a bowling alley. Shtupping the adoring fan who’s near menopause, then slipping out the door in the morning rather than have to confront and kiss that mug.
What does the song say? "I used to be somebody, now I’m somebody else?" No, the problem is you’re the same damn person. Who took off like a shot in one direction and finds it’s too late to stop now. You gave up college, family life, all in pursuit of your dream. But what if your dream doesn’t come true? You’re relegated to a life of service jobs. If you’re lucky, you can play music on the weekends.
Or maybe it’s even worse if you’ve had some success like Bad Blake. Because you just can’t give up. Even though you know you should.
But it turns out that Bad Blake still has some writing prowess. When Maggie Gyllenhaal bums out because Bad Blake effortlessly writes a song in her bed you see the power of the music. To make women fall in love with you. To speak the truth.
And the truth is not every story has a happy ending. Which is one of the reasons why Hollywood movies play in countries where English is never heard but are shrugged off by anyone with a brain in the U.S. We’re looking for truth.
And we’ve lost it not only in movies, but mainstream music.
But when we find it, we tell everyone we know.
And the truth in this movie is Jeff Bridges showing up to open for his old protege Tommy Sweet. You see trucks and buses. You see hustle and bustle.
Rock and roll, country music, hell, they don’t live on television. They live where there are no satellite dishes broadcasting, at the gig, in your hometown, in the middle of nowhere.
If you don’t get a thrill walking amongst the vehicles backstage, if your pulse doesn’t throb when you see those grizzled guys in shorts pulling cable then you haven’t been behind the curtain.
That’s the power of show.
And it all depends on the music.
What did Joni Mitchell sing? That we had to get back to the garden?
If you give people what they expect, if you play to formula, you might make momentary coin, but you’ll be almost instantly forgotten. But if you’re willing to practice, develop your skills, test limits, lay down some truth, you can be remembered, you can play music for the rest of your life.
