casual open-mouth kisses, for one). Still, the actor works so hard it hardly works. Nothing Cooper does is organic or authentic, and his show-off performance is always stilted.
He arduously thinks through every single choice — it’s time to scream into a pillow; cue the laugh; ready, set, cry. Nobody goes to a movie to watch actors ponder their next beat.
We want to feel, and his overwrought turn does not allow us to.But who cares? Cooper will surely be the recipient of the many accolades that automatically accompany what constitutes good, prestigious acting today: hoary impressions that are proven right by archival footage we’re shown during the end credits.
The typical Oscars rubric.Despite Cooper’s manic behavior, “Maestro” isn’t a total clunker because he’s a much better director this time than he is an actor.
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