I've always thought of Bradly Cooper as a male Jennifer Aniston. I watched "Maestro" last night. Boy was I wrong. He wrote, produced, directed, and starred in the film. I was moved. There are basically two actors in the film, Cooper and Carey Mulligan, and each plays many different characters, that is, their characters at different stages of life, young, old, and in between. And they nailed it. Both of them. I haven't read any reviews of the film, but I saw the complaints against Cooper playing a Jew, or something about his prosthetic nose. . . . Whatever the complaint was, I didn't see the foul.
I never liked Bernstein. He was a pop star figure not to be taken seriously by and large. He just never "spoke" to me. The movie brings that out in subtle ways. In the film, and maybe in life (I don't know), he succeeds in public but fails in private. He'd rather be a figure than an artist, or so it seems. Cooper is good at the one scene where Bernstein, in an interview, suggests that the one side of his life overtook the other. Creation takes place in solitude. "I love people," he says, but it is not that. He can't be alone with himself. He is an existential infidel.
Mulligan, however, has the line of the movie. After Bernstein's homosexual affairs become too much for her to bear, she stops blaming him. "I knew what he was. I thought I could live with it. Who has been fooling themself? Who was deluded?"
Just one more thing, though, that struck me in the kisser. As she is dying and he holds her in bed, his big, gold Rolex seems the largest thing in the room. Nice touch, Cooper.
Life is hard. Or it gets that way. Huh. But boy did Cooper make a good movie.
And I thought he was all eyes.
I saw this scene when I was leaving the Grit City Music Festival on Saturday. I sent the pic to my factory group with the message, "Poor kids. I'm sure they will be fine." That got hoots and howls. But who knows? They could be republicans who love tradition and sacrifice, who won't desire to be creative or have tawdry lives, who will raise their children in the Christian tradition and live as a family solving all problems as an integrated unit just like the movie version in Steve Martin films. Other than "Shopgirl," I mean.
That was the movie I loved, though.
I am trying to achieve a balance of social and alone time, of home and not home. Being with others makes the alone time so much better. I've been more productive in the past few weeks than I have been for a very long time.
"Productive, you say? What do you mean?"
Oh, you know. . . just doing stuff. I guess I mean I like the pictures. Maybe that's productive in some way. I'll do some yard work this week. Will that make you happy? Will you consider that "productive"? I have a lot of that to do and mulching time is coming up, too. Not just here, either. I have to do my mom's yard as well. So yea. . . there is that, but anyone can do that. Who do you know who can make these pictures, though?
"Oh, yea. . . they are nice. . . I guess. What are you going to do with them?"
"Who's your favorite photographer?"
"We liked the lady who did our family portraits a lot. She's really talented."
"Nothing."
I don't know. They just make me happy, I guess. . . like those wooden ducks that fellow carves in his garage. It is a little stupid, isn't it?
"You're like a child."
"Exactly!!! Look at me! Hey, ma. . . look, look. . . look."
"Oh, honey, that's great."
I like when people tell me I'm great. Have I said that before? They should do that all the time. I guess that is maybe why people have friends. Mutual admiration. I'm looking for the admiration of strangers, too, I guess, people to whom I needn't respond in kind.
Ah. . . there it is! Just like in the movie, Bernstein.
Well, I can quit there. I've figured out how to bring this all back around. It's freaking magic. I'm not just a picture maker, you know. I can tell things, too.
Let's not go pokin' around in there too much, though. There be monsters.
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