REVIEW: Bradley Cooper's "Maestro" is Magnificent.

To play a wrong note is insignificant.

To play without passion is inexcusable. - Ludwig von Beethoven (1770-1827)

A friend of mine, a now-retired former principle oboist for the Minnesota Orchestra, once told me he never watches movies about musicians. "Not even Amadeus?" I queried. "No," he responded, shaking his head.

He went on to explain his refusal and I - myself a musician, though nowhere near his caliber - began to understand why. Being a musician is hard: preparing for concerts, practicing for hours, being immersed in the creative process are all difficult, if not impossible, to capture accurately - or interestingly - on film. Having played many Catholic Masses in my time, plus weddings, funerals, holiday concerts and more reminded me that much of the preparation is tedious and not necessarily engaging for the casual observer. I've never liked anyone listening when I practice.

So kudos to co-writer (w/Josh Singer) and director Bradley Cooper for not trying to recreate all the music and all the creative processes that comprised the vibrant, if conflicted, life of Leonard Bernstein (Cooper also stars as the Maestro), often hailed as America's first great conductor. Instead, Cooper opts to focus on Bernstein's personal life, specifically, his meeting, courtship and marriage to Felicia Montealegre (Carey Mulligan), a Costa Rican actress Bernstein met in 1943, shortly after his breakthrough as substitute for the New York Philharmonic's guest conductor Bruno Walter. The conducting nod (he was serving as assistant conductor to Artur Rodzinski at the time), was done on short notice when Walter came down with the flu so, with no rehearsal, Lenny, as he was called, captured the heart and interest of the country when he wowed the capacity crowd at Carnegie Hall that cold November night.

Cooper's film opens with a quote about art attributed to Bernstein (more on that later) and quickly takes us to one of the Maestro's last interviews. As he plays a sequence from his opera, A Quiet Place, in front of a small crew recording him, Leonard muses about music, his diminishing capacity as a pianist, and the impact Felicia had on him. When he finally mentions seeing her ghost, the movie fades to black and white. It's 1943 and Lenny is about to get the call for his conducting debut.

The phone rings and 25-year-olf Lenny is in his darkened flat with another male, clarinetist David Oppenheim (Matt Bomer) who sleeps through most of the call until Lenny smacks him on the ass and bolts out of the apartment half-dressed, but giddy with anticipation of his unexpected assignment. The camera follows Lenny through a series of hallways and tunnels - almost like a 3D architectural floorplan - until he arrives fully dressed in the balcony of Carnegie Hall and surveys the empty theater which quickly fills to capacity and he is center stage.

Cooper uses this seamless segue of scenes throughout the film, melting one into the next as we watch individuals move from parks to theaters to swanky 1940s soirees without a beat, and it's hard not to to marvel at the beautiful story arch he creates, interweaving Bernstein's music with his personal life, and recreating the very best 1940s cinema look Hollywood had to offer. The feel is almost pure noir with a touch of Fred Astaire and Gene Kelley, and I felt transported back to another era in movie making. Bravo!

Lenny and Felicia's love story unfolds amidst this careful blending of scenes, creating an organic flow to their story. Their relationship is underscored with Bernstein's music, and Cooper uses it, in part, to establish a time frame. By the time we see the couple with two of their three children, both born in the 1950s, for instance, there is discussion about Bernstein's upcoming Broadway musicals Candide (1956) and West Side Story (1957). Later, it's the early 1960s, we hear the West Side Story overture in the background (the movie was released in 1961), as Cooper uses its famous Prologue and "La Borinqueña"/Jets Song to punctuate Lenny's sometimes conflicted lifestyle as he drives home in a convertible filled with gay friends, and then later runs to play with his three children.

If you are not a Bernstein fan or an afficionado of 1950s Broadway musicals, you might miss the way Cooper as director is making sure that Bernstein's music is heard, that his brilliance as a composer/conductor is visible, even if the story's focus is elsewhere. For me, it was, perhaps, the most effective/efficient way to capture Bernstein's vast musical repertoire and the complexities of his personal life, especially exploring Bernstein's not-so-discreet bisexuality.

Locations were also authentic. For Bernstein's iconic 1973 performance and the movie's climactic scene, conducting Mahler's "Resurrection" with the London Symphony Orchestra, Cooper used the same location in Cambridgeshire, United Kingdom where the concert took place: Ely Cathedral. Ditto for Carnegie Hall, Central Park, Tanglewood (Lenox, MA home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra), and the Bernstein family home in Fairfield, CT. All of these locations add another layer of authenticity to Bernstein's life as we revisit some of the places that mattered most to him.

With all this attention to detail, then, it was with some disappointment when I learned that the quote that opens the movie and is credited to Bernstein: "A work of art does not answer questions, it provokes them; and its essential meaning is in the tension of the contradictory answers" was really first penned by the composer Franz Schubert. Upon further investigation, I found that Bernstein used that quote during a 1976 Harvard lecture, and the quote appears to have been attributed to him. Bernstein was known for quoting great authors, poets (Edna St. Vincent Millay was apparently a favorite), so why didn't Cooper know this? He is otherwise meticulous in recreating Bernstein's world, and clearly believed the quote was important enough to use it to set the tone and theme of his film. Why not, then, put the quote in its proper context? None of that would have taken away from Bernstein's musical genius. In fact, it might even put his work with the broader contrast of the conflicts inherent in the creative process and in his life.

I'm probably been a nerdy geek here, because the movie doesn't really suffer from the apparent faux pas, but it's gnawed at me a bit because there was no need to build up Bernstein's ability to articulate his art by putting his name on the quote. Maybe it was just an oversight, but it's the kind of thing that can and should have been researched.

I'll shut up on that point now because there has been a bigger controversy swirling around Maestro: antisemitism. In mid-August, The Washington Post ran an article suggesting that Bradley Cooper, a non-Jew, used prosthetics to enlarge his nose to look more like Leonard Bernstein. Accusations of perpetuating stereotypes about "Jews with big noses" followed, eliciting responses from the Anti-Defamation League and Bernstein's children, who were deeply involved in the production. Both the ADL and the Bernstein's publicly supported Cooper's decision to enhance his proboscis, insisting this was part of Cooper's desire to immerse himself in all things Bernstein.

Most of the controversy has dissipated at this point, and The Post 's initial condemnation appears to be more of an attempt to discredit the liberal-leaning Cooper than raise genuine concerns about antisemitism. But it will be interesting to see how this all plays out against the current situation in Gaza.

Apart from the antisemitism distraction, Maestro has garnered strong, positive reviews among critics. And with good reason. If you thought Bradley immersed himself in the character of Jackson Maine, the brilliant rock star tortured by addiction in 2018's A Star is Born (Cooper's first directorial effort), he completely inhabits the heart of soul of Bernstein in Maestro. Recently revealing that he studied conducting for six years before making this movie, Cooper's recreation of the 1973 concert at Ely Cathedral where Bernstein famously conducted Mahler's "Resurrection" is a triumph. Even maestros themselves have praised Cooper's ability to capture a conductor's moves and here, he infuses his own love of music into Bernstein's vibrant style with powerful results. There are moments when you think you're watching Bernstein himself, so thorough is Cooper's transformation into what may be America's most famous maestro.

He's supported by a stellar cast, led by Carey Mulligan as Felicia Montealegre, whose quiet suffering is masked by a deep understanding of who Leonard Bernstein was. Totally aware of his attraction to men, she still insists they give their relationship a "whirl," and marriage soon follows. A respected actress in her own right, Montealegre understood Bernstein's passions, but also suffered for it, observing his many indiscretions from a not-too-distant perspective, and always acquiescing to his grandiose apologies. When she finally confronts him and quietly digs, "If you're not careful, you're going to die a lonely old queen," you can feel the knife cut deep.

Together, Cooper and Mulligan look like a glamourous Hollywood couple straight out of Madonna's "Vogue." The style and grace accorded both characters - and Cooper as director spotlighting his leading lady (the same way he let Lady Gaga shine in A Star is Born) - make watching Maestro a sensuous experience. The other supporting actors, including Matt Bomer as Lenny's longtime lover, David, Sarah Silverman as Leonard's sister Shirley, and Maya Hawke (daughter of actors Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman) as Leonard and Felicia's oldest daughter Jamie - are all terrific, as each contributes to the complex life of Maestro Bernstein. Everything runs like a clock, with dialogue, cinematography, music and dance all working in sync to recreate the life of American icon.

Maestro is made with great style and intelligence, with genuine affection and respect for its subject. Those last two adjectives might suggest that Cooper whitewashes Bernstein's flaws, idiosyncrasies, narcissism. He does not. His Leonard is not always appealing and, as he tries to reconcile his bisexuality with his desire to have, at least on the surface, a happy, heterosexual life, it is clear he left carnage in his wake. Felicia, David, even his children all suffered for being in his orb, in spite of his undeniable love and affection for them all. In the end, it was his music that mattered most and everyone else just came in second.

There will be those who will argue the movie needed more depictions of the creative process, more performances, more details or grit on his bisexuality. I couldn't help but wonder if there might have been a few more allusions to and depictions of Bernstein in preparation for concerts or in the process of composing. But that's more of a personal preference rather than a critique of the final product.

As a movie, Maestro is magnificent, and Bradley Cooper has proven that A Star is Born was no fluke. He is a formidable director with a beautiful sense of the art of movie-making, of storytelling, of taking us to world we might not otherwise encounter. His respect for characters, for people, especially musicians (flawed as they/we are) is, at times, breathtaking, and his ability to inhabit a role with empathy and compassion suggests a wisdom about human nature and the emotions and experiences that connect us all.

And did you notice how I managed to avoid using any musical adjectives or phrases involving chords, notes, dissonance or melody?

Maestro is currently playing in limited release in theaters and streaming on Netflix.