In light of the regained public awareness in Lou Gehrig’s disease, via the Ice Bucket Challenge earlier this year, it’s almost perfect timing for a Stephen Hawking biopic to hit the awards season. Definitely when considering that—besides, well, Lou Gehrig—he may be the most famous person in the world with the illness. While The Theory of Everything falls into all-so-many trappings of awards-bait filmmaking, thanks to committed performances from the movie’s leads, this biopic wins its sorrowing heart.
After meeting and falling for one another during their time at Cambridge despite their different backgrounds and studies, newfound lovers Stephen (Eddie Redmayne) and Jane (Felicity Jones) are gut-punched with the troubling news of Stephen’s muscle-degeneration illness, with a diagnosis of only two years left to live by his doctors. Mostly unfazed by this, though, Jane remains faithful to her boyfriend, marrying him and eventually giving him children despite her husband’s crippling condition. Anyone who is familiar with Hawking’s disease knows things don’t get better, and this endless situation casts more drama into the Hawking household, despite the physicist’s blooming career.
Despite its title, The Theory of Everything is actually based on the memoir Travelling to Infinity: My Life with Stephen, written by Jane Hawking, not the book of the same name by Stephen. Those looking for a thorough account of the renowned physicist’s career and contributions to his field in film form may be disappointed. For, rather, this movie is an emotional-based journey into the lives of two lovers tested by an incurable disease, one taking this man’s abilities away right before her eyes.
Economic in terms of its running time, The Theory of Everything keeps its depiction of Hawking’s life to its basics. While it’s thankfully understandable in terms of its science—especially for us who know next to nothing about the field—it does leave some emotional moments a tad lacking by its simplicity. The screenplay adaptation, written by Anthony McCarten, feels just too content on marginalizing dialogue to its most rudimentary, all adding to the movie’s by-the-books narrative structure. It doesn’t help that the movie’s score, from Johann Johannsson, almost feels like a parody of Oscar films in moments of falsified emotion.
While it’s a well-paced movie, thanks to some solid editing by Jinx Godfrey, there’s always a sense the filmmakers could explore its topic more, if just a little further and a little deeper. Not helping this is the movie’s overloaded desire to foreshadow Hawking’s disease. In the first ten to twenty minutes, there are at least seven instances when The Theory of Everything bluntly alludes to Hawking’s future disability. While a few are well done in their simplicity, all-too-many feel forced and overplayed. It takes away from the emotional impact because it feels like the filmmakers don’t trust the audience’s intelligence.
Still, the heart of the movie is, expectedly, found in its performances. In that regard, it most certainly excels. Redmayne is likely the performance to gain the most attention, particularly because it’s the showiest. In witnessing Hawking’s transformation, Redmayne gives as dedicated a performance as he can and absolutely shines. While the pressure to over pronounce pathos is found throughout, the actor’s commitment to portraying Hawking’s physicality while his eyes tell wonders makes for an impeccable performance. But don’t let this take focus away from Jones’ portrayal. Her more nuanced, subdued performance is just as good, and perhaps twice as harrowing in its simplicity.
Best known for his Academy Award-winning documentary work, director James Marsh (Man on Wire) is so dedicated to recreating a sense of honesty in select moments that the ones laced with cliché and overwrought overreactions are all the more disappointing. The Theory of Everything is at its best when it focuses on two story aspects: the blossoming relationship between Jane and Stephen and Stephen’s growing disability. For the first time they are on screen, there’s a natural, likable chemistry between the two leads. In addition to their great performances, they have a natural ease with one another, bouncing against one another with wit and charm. On the other side of the spectrum, however, the attention to watching Stephen grow disembodied is harrowing, primarily because, in addition to Redmayne’s great work, Marsh’s unafraid to show how disarming it is, and how painful it becomes for him, his peers and especially his family.
Its approach can be fairly plain-faced in terms of storytelling, but The Theory of Everything is never less than endearing or haunting whenever Redmayne or Jones are on-screen, especially together. It’s a disarming movie, one that would be hard to watch if it didn’t look so pretty thanks to Benoit Delhomme’s camera work. But the emotional weight—while overdone slightly by the end—is nevertheless effective, and it’s hard to imagine many audience members not being moved by this tragic and heartfelt examination of love.
Rating: 3.5/5 stars
wa054010@ohio.edu
