19 posts categorized "music"


Field plows into frumpy, fantasizing 'Doris'

Sally Field as the title character in "Hello, My Name Is Doris." Seacia Para/Roadside Attractions

Generally speaking, when an extraordinarily gifted actress like Sally Field, a two-time Academy Award winner (Norma Rae, Places in the Heart), is out front, a film is strong enough to warrant a trip to the neighborhood movie house.

That’s almost the case with "Hello, My Name Is Doris," but not quite.

Field, nominated for a third Oscar as Mary Todd Lincoln in Steven Spielberg’s Lincoln in 2012, pours her acting soul into Doris. She’s a 60-something New Yorker from Staten Island who has just lost her mother and now must fend for herself at work, with her friends and, perhaps most importantly, when she’s alone.

Not unlike Doris, however, there’s just too much baggage in this layered comic-drama for even a gifted pro like Field to carry herself. Doris is not just conflicted, as any lonely woman in her 60s might be after losing her closest human contact (her mother).

In many ways, Doris is still a teenager in her mind, even though she’s nearing retirement age at the office where she keeps accounts in a cubicle that can barely contain her volatile angst. Let’s just say her path to happiness and mental stability is as cluttered as her home, where she throws a fit when relatives and a psychologist try to get her to part with a hoarded single snow ski she has no use for.

There’s enough going on in Hello, My Name Is Doris to suggest that Field would have a Field day (if you’ll pardon the pun) rumbling through the mental mess that is her title character. Unfortunately, this tale of an aging wallflower desperate to blossom into a relationship with the handsome young new art director named Max (John Fremont) careens off into something that’s a little bit Walter Mitty (an uncontrollable fantasizer) and a lot made-for-TV movie material.

Director Michael Showalter, who also co-wrote the script, is working with material first explored in an eight-minute NYU student film. Expanded to 90 minutes, however, Hello, My Name Is Doris runs out of creative gas, much like so many of those funny Saturday Night Live skits that died on the feature-film vine.

Field is fine, more than fine, in fact. She jumps into the lovable frump bag that is Doris body and soul. There are no complaints from this aisle seat about Fremont, currently starring on the small screen as Schmidt opposite Zooey Deschanel on the Fox sitcom New Girl. And it’s fun to see Tyne Daly as Roz, a steadfast best friend to Doris.

Unfortunately, Hello, My Name Is Doris is not constantly compelling enough to live on eccentricity alone on the big screen. It might play well on TV in prime time, but somewhere down the list of cable channels that attend more to matters of the heart than matters of essential cinema.


MPAA rating: R (profanity)
90 minutes
Jalapeño rating: 2½ (out of 4)


'Glee' rocks the house for marketing geeks

Over time, some memories begin to blur or, in other cases, super-size.

I don't recall Grand Prairie High School music assemblies of a few decades back rockin' the house like what you'll see, hear and feel in "Glee:  The 3D Concert Movie."

I add "feel" to the mix because no bass drum stomp or guitar riff has rattled my insides like what we hear in th "Glee" concert opus since The Who smashed their guitars and drop-kicked the drum set on the Memorial Auditorium stage in Dallas in the early '60s.

Very slickly produced, "Glee:  The 3D Concert Movie" is directed by Kevin Tancharoen, who called the shots on the "Fame" big-screen revise a couple years back.

Full disclosure:  I'm not a fan of the wildly popular Fox TV series, which harmonizes into its third season next month.  I am a fan of Jane Lynch, who portrays salty Sue Sylvester on the show.  Truth is, I never could stomach the TV show long enough for Lynch to appear.

The concert film, though, is something else.  I could do without the insertion of real-life geeks (the dwarf cheerleader, the gay guy outed in the eighth grade, etc.) that's peppered throughout.  Come on guys, if you're going to cut Lynch out of the concert film, which apparently someone did, also 86 the cheesy pathos.

"Glee 3D" doesn't need that.  The cast members who sing, all tangled in high school drama on TV, set a very high standard vocally.

Lea Michele, Rachel Berry to "Gleeks," belts out a rousing version of Barbra Streisand's signature "Don't Rain on My Parade" that may have the rafters still humming at the IZOD Center in East Rutherford, NJ, where the concert film was lensed over two nights.

Plano native Kevin McHale is also a show-stopper as Artie, the geeky kid in the wheelchair.  For those of you unfamiliar with Artie's dream in the TV series, the lively number recreating the event on the concert stage might leave some cynics in the audience -- if they're allowed into the movie auditorium at all -- scratching their heads.

Normally, I'd say a movie like this would be for "Glee" devotees only.  The choir (or glee club) singing to the choir (or glee club) as it were.

Not this time.  I encourage all marketing majors as well as music majors, singers and anyone who enjoys a pulsating musical act on stage to attend as well; perhaps with a set of earplugs.  

Present and future marketing execs may be overpowered by the rush of music and put off by the corny theme of "geeks as gods."  Publicity professionals could take notes on how a well-oiled stage show can rumble along so magnificently as a cash cow marketing vehicle, though.

That's something to "don't stop believin.'" For sure.


'Country' pity party stirs up familiar sawdust

Don't look for tender mercies, or for that matter Robert Duvall's Oscar-winning "Tender Mercies," in "Country Strong."

On the negative side, this riches-to-rags pity party with country music features a great country music star (Tim McGraw) who doesn't sing and an Oscar-winning movie star (Gwyneth Paltrow) who isn't a great crooner but warbles anyway.

So "Country Strong" launches with two strikes against it. Three, actually, counting McGraw's glaringly bushy head-rug.

No, make that four strikes. Sophomore director Shana Feste ("The Greatest"), who also wrote an uninspired script,should have her two-stepping license revoked.
Sheasks co-star Garrett Hedlund to commit country music hari-kari by attempting Merle Haggard's legendary "Silver Wings" in the opening scene.

Still, "Country Strong" rumbles along its predictable "singer way down on his/her luck hitting rock bottom" path with some appeal. That comes mainly from McGraw (a genuine country music and acting force), Hedlund (once he shakes the "Silver Wings" pain) and Leighton Meester, who plays a former Miss Dallas who longs for country stardom.

The movie itself wavers between a made-for-TV vibe and something deeper, an attempt to capture the darkness and unrelenting pain of a country music divatoo boozed up and mentally messed up to warble for her forgiving masses.

Despite being an accomplished actress and an Academy Award winner for "Shakespeare in Love" in 1998, Paltrow doesn't quite possess the acting chops to wallow in the misery of a wounded star bottom-feeding in liquor bottles because of a stage accident that ended in family tragedy.

Despite the wobbly beginning, Hedlund ("Troy") slowly won me over as Beau, a country singer by night and rehab counselor (attendant?) by day. The camera loves this rising star. The same can be said for Meester ("Gossip Girl" on TV), the Texas native who plays career-driven Chiles Stanton.

McGraw, who should drop-kick whomever suggested that particular toupe, countinues to amaze on screen after a start in the feature film version of "Friday Night Lights."

Paltrow is adequate, but nothing more in a showcase role that should move audiences more.

Even though "Country Strong" kicks up familiar story sawdust on a well-worn cinematic honky-tonk dance floor, it's entertaining enough for a look, especially for country music fans.


'Tangled' shines as golden family fun

In the somewhat confusing world of Disney animated movies these days, a movie based on the classic tale Rapunzel is called "Tangled."

That's where the muddled presentation ends, though.  This goldie locks yarn packs computer-generated vim, vocal vigor and spirited animal characters to go along with the familiar story of a beautiful girl with magical hair that measures 70-feet in length.

"Tangled," available in 3-D and traditional 2-D, is a robust comedy with romance the entire family can enjoy together.

Snatched by Gothel (voiced by Donna Murphy), an evil women hoping to keep the secret of eternal youth all to herself, Rapunzel (Mandy Moore) grows up in a tower in a secluded area of the forest.

Her parents, the king and queen, release floating lanterns in a desperate attempt to reach their kidnapped daughter each year on her birthday.   As that special day approaches to signal the start of her 18th year, Rapunzel lets down her hair and runs off with Flynn Rider (Zachary Levi), a thief with a heart of gold as bright as Rapunzel's rather extended hair.

Co-directors Nathan Greno (getting his feature-film shot) and Byron Howard ("Bolt") take full advantage of Dan Fogelman's ("Bolt") briskly paced script.  There's more than a little of something for everyone.  Girls will love the fairy tale romance.  Boys are likely to delight in the action sequences, and parents can breathe easy knowing that Disney -- and more specifically these days, co-executive producer John Lasseter -- is going to keep everything in the family film arena.

Moore, who's been toiling in TV lately ("How I Met Your Mother," "Grey's Anatomy"), brings effervescence mixed with a teeny bit of rebellion to Rapunzel, which should have been the title character.

Animation film-makers must agonize over whether their vocal co-stars will generate the needed on-screen chemistry using only their vocal chords.  In this case, the directing duo had nothing to worry about.  Levi (as Flynn Rider), the title character of "Chuck" on TV, matches Moore syllable by syllable as the career thief who might just not be so bad after all.

Animated flicks often overdo their computer-generated animal sidekicks.  While that is the case somewhat with Rapunzel's overly cautious pet chameleon Pascal, Maximus, the duty-bound palace guard horse Maximus is a hoot.  

Actually, Maximus only looks like a horse.  He sniffs around for clues like a police dog.  It may sound like it would get overly tedious, but Maximus works to the maximum.

And so does "Tangled," despite its title change and rather one-dimensional story tone.

Gather up the family and treat yourself to the newest animated film delight.  I'm betting you'll be glad you did.

Don't go to the 'Cabaret,' I mean 'Burlesque'

I liked "Burlesque" much better when it was called "Cabaret" and won eight Academy Awards back in 1972.

"Burlesque," a shameful, blatant rip-off of one of the greatest edgy musicals of all time, nonetheless provides a couple of decent showcase seats in a starring vehicle.  That would be for present-day sultry songstress Christina Aguilera and Cher, who occupied that throne for a couple of decades.

Writer-director Steven Antin, a rookie feature film-maker, uses his experience as a music video director to trump musical cues with gusto.  In fact, Antin shows promise, executing quick edits that mean something musically with skill rarely seen since "Hair" burned draft cards in Central Park back in  1979.

Antin might be selling his soul to the devil a little by taking on this project, however.  "Burlesque" shamelessly rips off "Cabaret" from the gifted young singer fighting for a break -- Liza Minnelli as Sally Bowles in "Cabaret," Aguilera as Ali here -- right down to the retro nightclub decadence and Alan Cumming doing a poor Joel Grey impression as the flamboyant host of vague gender.

If you must go for the glitz, the hype and the frequent in-movie concert performances by Aguilera, just know that Mr. Antin is no director Bob Fosse and "Burlesque" can't hold a feathered fan to "Cabaret."

Ignorance, which is not usually really bliss, is here.  If you have no knowledge of "Cabaret" (and my question would be "Why not?"), it might be possible to stretch your disbelief to an extreme where you go along with an old fashioned, World War I era burlesque club existing today on Hollywood's Sunset Strip.

Even then, though, the whole affair is laughably preposterous.  One of the girl dancers calls The Burlesque Lounge a "strip club."  Yet the only nudity  in this sappy musical is that of semi-leading man Jack's (Cam Gigandet) rear end.  Butt I digress.

This one's all about the music, and "saving the farm" (club) from the bank.  Sad economic times are about as close as this film ever gets to anything resembling reality.  A huge balloon mortgage payment is due in days.  If Tess (Cher) and Sean (Stanley Tucci, who's slumming, but still good), her soul-mate stage manager, can't wrangle a miracle, the party will be over.

Movies like this are all about pulling off the unthinkable, of course.  Why else would the filmmakers rattle the "Cabaret" bones and hope ("Oh please, oh please") that no one notices the crossing of the line from homage to downright thievery?

Aguilera, a bona fide belter with brass pipes, passes well enough as the driven new girl in her feature film starring debut.  Ali's a recent L.A. import from Iowa who wants to get from here (a waitress job) to there (the Burlesque Lounge) in the worst way.

Cher, as the stubborn matriarch to a coven of hip shakers, proves once again that she can not only sing, but act as well.  In a cheesy musical full of contrivances, I didn't mind so much when Cher, as Tess, parks herself on a stool in the middle of a dark stage and blows the roof off the joint with a throaty "You Haven't Seen the Last of Me."

Of that we can be sure.

If we never saw the first of "Burlesque," however, that wouldn't be such a bad thing.


'Pilgrim's' progress, then combat overkill

Until it implodes artistically due to battle redundancy overkill about three quarters of the way through, "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World" rocks the summer movie scene with ferocious style and wry wit.

Film-goers might as well concede that what we see is what we get with Michael Cera.  His on-screen forte is a soft-spoken wimp who exudes charm.

Thanks to "Scott Pilgrim" director/co-writer director Edgar Wright, though, the 22-year-old Canadian corrals that impish charm to serve the movie extremely well.  In fact, Cera is the best I've seen him since he played Ellen Page's shy high school boyfriend Paulie Bleeker in "Juno" in 2007.

Cera could probably get by playing a high schooler into his mid-40s.  Here's a shocker, though.  Cera plays his age in "Scott Pilgrim." That's about the only link to reality you should expect in an outrageous, stylized comic-actioner from Wright, the British filmmaker who brought "Shaun of the Dead" and "Hot Fuzz" to the screen.

Based on Canadian Bryan Lee O'Malley's six-pack of graphic novels that debuted in 2004, "Scott Pilgrim" explodes as a musical, yes a musical, for movie-goers who grew up watching music videos and playing Nintendo.  Wright sums the game plan up succinctly in the film's production notes:

"In the world of 'Scott Pilgrim,' minor disagreements are resolved in mortal combat."

What that means for those in the audience is a major re-tooling of the traditional Hollywood musical.  Instead of merely bursting into song (a la Busby Berkeley) to hammer a plot shift home, guitars wail, characters fly through the air in video game-like combat and manga and video game iconography fills the screen.

He may be impish, but out-of-work Toronto garage band (actually apartment band) bass player Scott Pilgrim (Cera) has no problem attracting the ladies.  His old high school girlfriend Kim (Alison Pill of "Dan in Real Life") sits stoic and stone-faced behind his band's drums.

Even though Scott's been out of school for years, he has a current high school girlfriend named Knives Chau (newcomer Ellen Wong), who adores him.  Once purple-haired Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead of "Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof") roller-blades by, however, all young Mr. Pilgrim can think of is Ramona, a recent arrival from the U.S.

All Scott has to do -- much to his surprise -- is defeat Ramona's seven evil exes.

And that's the problem with one of the summer's most refreshing film ideas.  The first evil ex is fun.  Newcomer Satya Bhabha, vamping wildly as Ramona's former junior high school boyfriend Matthew Patel, crashes through the ceiling with a chorus of pointy-teethed evil vamps behind him.

The fact that there are identical twins to deal with helps.  But after a couple of wild video-game send-up combats, I found myself wondering how many more would be coming.  ("Four more?  OMG," as this film's frequent pop-up messages might pronounce.)

Cera is good; finally showing more versatility within his impish persona.  And director Wright brings one of the summer's most stylized, skillfully sly tales to the screen.

Somebody should have pushed the "Game Over" button before clever wit and blasting music vitality implode within itself, though. 


Banned band-on-the-run fun in 'Concert'

Band-on-the-run foreign imports can be a hoot.

Granted, that's judging from an abbreviated sample.  Taking into consideration "The Concert," in local theaters this week, and "The Band's Visit," the acclaimed Israeli comic-drama of 2008, however, it's a niche that's yet to be fully explored.

In Russian and French with subtitles, "The Concert" takes the notion of banned Russian musicians impersonating the Bolshoi Orchestra for a Paris concert and runs with it.

No one's probably going to proclaim this comic romp with heartfelt asides the finest film of all time, or even this current film year.

What French co-writer/director Radu Mihaileanu (born in Romania) brings to the screen, though, is a bouncy, well-thought-out what if.

What if a once-celebrated conductor of the Bolshoi, banned years ago for refusing to dismiss his Jewish orchestra members, still worked at the Bolshoi, but as the janitor?

That's the morose plight of Andreï Filipov (played extremely well by Polish actor Aleksei Guskov) in "The Concert."  When the boss is off on vacation, Filipov intercepts a fax and makes the bold move to round up his old orchestra pals to pose as the Bolshoi Orchestra.

Mihaileanu's script, collaborated on by Alain-Michel Blanc, reveals its playful nature early.  When the disgruntled former maestro goes looking for his former musical cohorts, it's as if Cher has a hand in the script.  Why not build a world-class orchestra with -- among others -- gypsies, tramps and thieves when the gypsy fiddle player can segue into Tchaikovsky at the drop of a hat?

"The Concert" turns serious at times, especially when Mélanie Laurent (of Quentin Tarantino's "Inglourious Basterds") makes her entrance as Anne-Marie Jacquet, the violin soloist.

Even if the pieces fit together a little too conveniently, "The Concert" makes beautiful music as comedy with some dramatic moments to fiddle with your heart.


Raunchy 'Greek' remembers 'Sarah Marshall'

"Get Him to the Greek" is a spin-off of "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," director Nicholas Stoller's 2008 romantic breakup comedy.

Don't call it a sequel, though.  "Get Him to the Greek" features two actors, Jonah Hill and Russell Brand, from the earlier hit.  But only one character made the squad cut.  Think of it as "The Scorpion King" branching out from "The Mummy" franchise, or "Wolverine" going back to his steel-finger roots  sans the other "X-Men" freaks.

Aldous Snow (Brand), the British rock star who showed up with vacationing title character Sarah Marshall (Kristen Bell), is front and decidedly off-center in the new comic misadventure.  Hill returns as well, but not as Matthew, the groupie, songwriting Hawaiian resort waiter he played a couple years back.

This time Hill takes on Aaron Green, a Los Angeles record company underling.  Green has three days to jet to London, pick up trashed, boozing, drugging rock star Snow and get him first to New York for an appearance on "The Today Show" and then to L.A. for a make-or-break reunion concert at the Greek Theater.

"Get Him to the Greek" spills onto the screen from the Judd Apatow stable of "Knocked Up," "Superbad" and "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," among others.  It feels more like "The Hangover," in that it spews alcohol, sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll debauchery to new cinematic lows.

Stoller, who also penned the script, was correct in assuming there was more comic money in the bank when it came to Brand's over-the-mountaintop rock star persona.  And he was correct that Brand and Hill created some comic sparks in "Sarah Marshall."  His problem here is assuming that Hill (who strangely draws top billing) and Brand can sustain that level of amusement for the entire length of a feature film.

Snow doesn't board the plane quietly or on schedule, of course.  There is much partying to do.  Many girls to kiss, a few car hoods to stomp and liquor to drink, spill and spew.  The rock music god who once flew high on hits, is now riding high on debauchery.

His girlfriend, former supermodel Jackie Q. (Rose Byrne of "Damages" and "Knowing" on TV) launched the binge by saying during a TV interview that Snow is no fun since he chucked the booze seven years earlier.  So Aaron, a semi-family guy having trouble with his live-in girlfriend Daphne (Elisabeth Moss of "Did You Hear About the Morgans?") back home, enters a perfect storm of booze and remorse.

Who knows if this is the last we'll see of Brand as rocker Aldous Snow, which is beginning to come across as his "Borat" to Sacha Baron Cohen.  Know this, though, Brand is a movie star poised to break out in a huge way.

Hill, a decent enough actor, can be funny in brief support spurts; with Adam Sandler and Seth Rogen in last year's "Funny People," for instance.  The third time he threw up in this wild comic ride, though, I began to focus on anything other than his face.  (You can't trust a spewer after three projectile incidents.)  

"Get Him to the Greek" isn't as consistently funny as you might expect or as I would like.  Like "Sarah Marshall," however, it occasionally detours into bittersweet heartfelt drama that provides the lower regions of the emotional roller coaster.


'Runaways' rocks hard, demands attention

Dakota Fanning has been acting since she was 5.
Ten years later, while performing the stuttering, raw lyrics of the sexually suggestive Runaways song "Cherry Bomb," Fanning becomes an actress to be reckoned with.

"The Runaways," while not a great film, it's one that constantly demands attention.  Personally, I would like to have seen an experienced feature filmmaker in the director's chair.  Even inexperienced in sustaining narrative, however, video and photography artist Floria Sigismondi delivers something vibrant, dark and spellbinding.

With up-and-coming star Kristen Stewart ("Twilight") in black leather as budding rocker Joan Jett and Fanning (already an established child star) as blond bombshell Cherie Currie, Sigismondi unleashes intense, sultry rock 'n' roll and dramatic heat.

"The Runaways" is a coming-of-age film of two teen Southern California girls of the 1970s who hook up to become rock's pioneer girl band.  The Go-Go's and The Bangles would follow.  The Runaways forged the path.

Like all good music biopics, this one digs deeper than chronicling merely what happens on stage when five girls decide to rock it like the bad boys.  Sigismondi, who also wrote the script, did her research grunt work.  Part of that was Cherie Currie's autobiographical book "Neon Angel."

Sitting in the audience, I got the feeling that I was a fly on the wall in the shabby trailer home as The Runaways' angry, sexually charged rock sound was being born.  Cherie (Fanning), fresh off a bad David Bowie lip-sync performance at her school's talent show, arrives without an audition song.  

Eccentric, bombastic manager Kim Fowley (Michael Shannon) likes her hot look, though.  It's a combination of sweetness and Bridget Bardot.  So Fowley, barking profanities all the way, and Jett write "Ch-ch-ch-cherry Bomb" on the spot.  It will become the fast-rising band's titillating anthem.  

That's the tone of "The Runaways," the movie, as well.  Sigismondi delivers cinematic intensity not in building moments, as many filmmakers do, but in dramatic flash fires. The flame erupts the first time when Joan and Cherie team up to forge a niche in rock history and again when life on the road, booze and boredom lead to personal co-encounters.

Unfortunately, this is a movie that doesn't end well.  It just stops.  Not with a thud, really, but with a nudge.  A more experienced filmmaker would discover a way around the dead end instead of letting everything just screech to a halt.  When it's hitting on all cylinders, however, "The Runaways" dares to blaze a trail through rock history, as well as personal triumph and turmoil.

Both lead actresses, who convince as singers and musicians as well as actors, are superb.  Stewart and Fanning (yes, once little Dakota Fanning of "I Am Sam" and "The Cat in the Hat") don't just play these characters; they slither under the skin to become them.

Also, keep your eyes on Michael Shannon, who drew an Oscar nomination in 2008 as Kathy Bates' mentally unstable son in "Revolutionary Road."  Shannon commands every scene he's in as Fowley.

Without Fowley's driving force, "The Runaways" would be like two sticks of dynamite without fuses.


See Bridges, but rent 'Tender Mercies'

Jeff Bridges channels the late Waylon Jennings and the still-great Merle Haggard in the country-rock-twanged "Crazy Heart."

The movie itself channels "Tender Mercies" (1983), a far superior woeful tale of a down-and-out country music road warrior who's seen a little success in his past and too many bottles of whiskey in his present.

Bridges ("Men Who Stare at Goats," "Iron Man'), a fine actor already named best actor at the Golden Globes, the Critics Choice Awards, the Screen Actors Guild Awards and a slew of others, looks like a shoo-in for his fifth Academy Award nomination on Tuesday.  

With the exception of some of the tunes by T Bone Burnett ("Walk the Line," "O Brother, Where Art Thou?") and the late Stephen Bruton (Texans both), though, Bridges is the only real reason to see "Crazy Heart."  

Officially based on Thomas Cobb's novel of the same title, "Crazy Heart" stars Bridges as road weary country-rock crooner Bad Blake.  Maggie Gyllenhaal ("The Dark Knight") plays second fiddle as Jean, a local New Mexico journalist who falls for the Bad guy and tries to "fix him."  

Gyllenhaal isn't awful as a single mom who can't resist the charm of an older fallen star.  Nor is she exceptional.

Even though I generally really like anything Colin Farrell does on screen, I never believed  the Irish actor as Bad Blake protégé-made-good Tommy Sweet for a second.

First-time director Scott Cooper, an actor who adapted the novel himself, might have made things a little easier on himself if, when Bad shows up at Jean's door to plead for a second chance, he didn't include a line like this:

Jean (after hearing that the troubled singer is finally clean and sober):  "That's good, Bad."

No, that's just bad.  

Like Don Quixote, who charged windmills in "Man of La Mancha" because they might be giants in disguise, I dream the impossible dream that once a classic movie is made, there should be no tampering, remaking or, in this case, re-imagining, whether it be in novel form, on screen or both.

The late Horton Foote won an Academy Award for his "Tender Mercies" screenplay.  Foote might not turn over in his grave if he knew that Robert Duvall, who took Best Actor Oscar honors as the rascal-on-the-mend in "Tender Mercies," doesn't just appear in "Crazy Heart," but gets a producer credit as well.

But I can't help thinking that Foote would cringe a little.

See this one for Bridges' good, if not outstanding performance if you must.  Just remember to stop off and rent a copy of "Tender Mercies" on the way home.  You'll see how the masters worked an all-too similar story.