“Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try….”

This ain’t no place for the weary kind
This ain’t no place to lose your mind
This ain’t no place to fall behind
Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try

The Weary Kind (Theme from Crazy Heart)

I started to write a review of Crazy Heart on Friday night. It soon turned into a long ramble about the acting process, about the writer’s clever character introductions and about how I, a young woman, responded to a story about an aging has-been. The entry was pretty melodramatic. I used too many adjectives. So I’m going to give you a short recap instead. Consider yourselves blessed.

Aside: I forgot that I was at a theatre on a Friday. Date night. And that such a film would encourage middle-aged couples to flock to an early-evening screening of a film about a washed-up country singer. So when they laughed or cringed, it was because they were relating on a level completely foreign to me. Which is why I was glad I was watching with them.

• Jeff Bridges should win every acting award possible. Performance of a lifetime.
• Maggie Gyllenhaal is transparent and heartbreaking. And she really listens. You can see her processing.
• Colin Farrell can sing. Man, can he ever. Too bad he can’t do a southern accent. At all.
• This scene stayed with me for a while. I’ve been there. Sort of. Minus the guy writing a song on my bed.
• “The Weary Kind” is beautiful and honest and should win Best Song.
• The writing is simple and subtle. If you like big sweeping epics, this little episodic character study will underwhelm you. You have been warned.
• I like redemption. And second chances. Even when things aren’t neatly wrapped up in a pretty bow. Both in stories and in life.
• I didn’t cry.
• ‘Twas good.