With “Crazy Heart,” first-time writer/director, Scott Cooper, aims to capture an authentic slice of Americana and the romance of the unwieldy west.  If he succeeds, it’s no thanks to his direction or adaptation of Thomas Cobb’s novel.  The only reason this rough-around-the-edges work of business-as-usual corporate cinema is getting any attention at all is because of two familiar words: Jeff Bridges.  And the hype is duly warranted.

Bad Blake (Bridges), the spitting image of Kris Kristofferson, but with a persona more akin to Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings, David Allan Coe or Hank Thompson, is a country music legend.  A legend fallen on hard times.  His influence still courses through the sonic veins of the now slickly produced pop-riddled industry, but Blake, now a heartbroken drunk resigned to playing drab bowling alleys and depressed honky-tonk bars, survives on mere scraps from the very table he helped build.

The story is about as stock as they come.  Blake, tormented by heartache, alcoholism and an anti-climactic bookend to his once glorious career toils in the bedraggled underbelly of life until he meets a girl (Maggie Gyllenhaal).  Their star-crossed romance endures the myriad struggles of life on the road but meets its ultimate test in Blake’s nagging drinking problem.  The ex-star must swallow his pride for a chance at personal redemption and one last shot at resurrecting his career.

Cooper’s first foray into feature films does a lot of things well.  Barry Markowitz’s gorgeous photography sets Blake’s tale of inner strength and triumph against nature’s breathtaking landscapes and simplistic beauty.  The narrative, while at once derivative and meandering, manages to find a certain of air of authenticity in the well-trodden path of its lead player.  And Cooper displays uncommon stylistic restraint for a first-time filmmaker.

But the bad has the edge over the good.  The romance just doesn’t work.  It develops far too quickly and rings almost entirely false.  The usually stellar Maggie Gyllenhaal can’t seem to settle in to her role as the single mom and journalist who falls for the aging outlaw.  We never get a sense of what exactly she sees in Blake  — or what he sees in her for that matter.  And the false endings drive a dagger through the heart of several would-be poetic and fitting ends for the old cowboy.  Chalk it up to inexperience, but Cooper could have, and should have, ended the film about ten minutes before he finally does.

Taking a cue from that shamelessly Hollywood ending, let’s not end this review on a sour note.  Jeff Bridges is an American institution.  It’s criminal that he’s never taken home any hardware from the Academy, and with any luck “Crazy Heart” will change that.  The Dude’s performance is as true and powerful as any I’ve seen all year.  His transformation into Bad Blake is so effortless you could probably convince me that that’s the real Jeff Bridges and everything else is just acting.  A commanding and nuanced performance in a pedestrian film.

Score:  3.5/5