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| (Focus Features) |
The
Theory of Everything suffers from its derivative style and thinly-adapted script
(of Jane Hawking's Traveling to Infinity: My Life with Stephen Hawking),
as ultimately, this splendidly-acted film settles as a bit of a drag to
watch. A critic can spend pages pointing out basic storytelling flaws in this
film (there are many).
Stephen
Hawking (Eddie Redmayne) – a graduate student in physics at Cambridge – falls
in love with Jane (Felicity Jones) a student of European literature. She sticks
by him despite his being diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease; they spend
a greatly turbulent 30 years together before an unceremonious divorce. Many
critics have lamented the heavy focus on the marriage – rather than on
Stephen's scientific ideas – and thus its failure to get inside the head of the
great thinker. Redmayne can only fill in the blanks – he doesn’t quite sell the
genius, even if he can succeed at capturing Hawking’s physicality as the years
ensue – as, aside from vague references to his scientific discoveries, much is
left in the dark and unexplored. The movie charts Hawking’s success and his
marriage, which falls apart as the disease claims his ability to walk and to
speak. Jane finds solace in caretaker/father-figure/family friend Jonathan Hellyer Jones (Charlie Cox);
Hawking retains vibrancy and falls in love with Elaine (Maxine Peake). It’s a melodrama that appropriately
punches you in the gut with its rough depiction of a broken marriage, and the
score by Jóhann Jóhannsson (Prisoners) sufficiently provides the thin
script with the necessary levity to pack an emotional wallop, masking what
little intrigue is actually inherent in this docudrama.
The
performances allow this film to sporadically crackle and pop. Redmayne and
Jones certainly have chemistry and, despite the uneven material, manage to land
several exceptional moments that hit me hard. Jane, after her husband loses his
voice, needs to reteach him how to communicate with a winking system. Jones'
trepid, anxious delivery of her lines – as she comes to the realization that
this is going to be her life, taking care of this feeble soul – is simply
breathtaking. Otherwise, she’s the lead role of movie in which her character
feels nonetheless peripheral. The movie switches POV rapidly, shifting between
Stephen and Jane unsuccessfully. Jarring, puzzling, and unsatisfying, it
doesn’t allow for solid performances to register on a consistent level; the
writing doesn’t service the actors particularly well. Jones is good, but only
within the confines of a melodramatic premise. The same goes for Redmayne, even
as his work is obviously impressive with a stunning physical transformation, a
fierce emotional nakedness and a strong command of language. But the
performance doesn't feel effortless. It lacks what make our great actors
great, among them Charlize Theron, Julianne Moore, Sean Penn, Bryan Cranston,
Heath Ledger, Daniel Day-Lewis and on. It may be an unfair comparison, but
acting at that level is chemical, electric, awe-inspiring. Throughout, I found
myself admiring this performance yet unable to fall under its spell. Redmayne
puts a lot of heart and effort into Stephen, most notably during Stephen's
speech at a scientific convention, in which the actor is able
to communicate a great deal simply through his eyes. But he can’t
disappear into the part. Often, the distance between Hawking and the viewer is
too great. Still Alice is guilty of the opposite – you
feel so close to Moore’s Alice where you can’t really understand her character
and the relationships she harbored in her normal life. Moore, however, is
astounding in how deep she goes; Redmayne, on the other hand, is engaging and
consistent in this physical exercise but not quite so seamless in taking us on
an emotional journey. It's a sturdy performance that keeps you at arm's length.
The movie
itself is standard-fare, emotionally manipulative not unlike Fault
in Our Stars (a similarly
average film anchored by solid performances). Two films this year
which unabashedly went for melodramatic notes, without laying anything
substantial beneath the surface. Despite my underwhelming report, the viewing
experience is worthy for, if nothing else, the actors on-screen – the film
opens up an interesting discussion about the actor’s craft. Cumulatively,
while The Theory of Everything's evocation of a rocky marriage
is devoid of originality or anything especially captivating, director James
Marsh manages to entertain solely because of what Redmayne and Jones do
on-camera. But as a treatment of one of the greatest minds of the Twentieth
Century, this is an utter disappointment on most every level.
Grade: C+