I saw “Crazy Heart,” the Jeff Bridges movie, for which he has received well-deserved plaudits. In many ways, it’s a typical Hollywood film about a musician. The plotline is familiar from the Ray Charles and Johnny Cash biopics of a few years ago: a great singer has a rotten personal life and eventually gets it all back together. But this movie does have its charms. Maggie Gyllenhaal, for example, no matter how unbelievable the notion of her falling for a drunk, has-been country singer is always luminous on-screen.

Bridges himself, who brings intelligence and sensitivity to a role that in those other movies I mentioned seemed somewhat lacking. And, Robert Duvall. He was one of the producers. I love watching him, especially at this point in his career, where it seems like he is just having a great time (kind of like Paul Newman’s late performances).

I’m somewhat curious why in Hollywood redemption for middle-aged or late middle-aged men always seems to involve much younger women. In this case, however, Bridges didn’t get the girl in the end, even if their relationship was a catalyst for his transformation.

The music is pretty good, too. I’ve not been listening much to country music of any sort in the past few years. There was a time that my hour-long commute was accompanied by tunes from WNCW, so from the late 90s through say 2005, I got to know lots of alt country. I realized today, I kind of miss it, but lacking a commute, I’m probably not going to have the opportunity to listen to the likes of John Hiatt, Lucinda Williams, Gillian Welch and all those other artists I enjoyed during those years.