This is a peculiar little movie. In some ways the writing conveys a sense that the idea originated as a novella, or was adapted from one, or may have been better served remaining simply as written word. The bare simplicity, ease, and small scope of the narrative rather suggests this, as well as the narration of Helen that communicates her carefully composed thoughts. On the other hand, the emphasis on classic, exceptional music, and also the smaller ways it's employed here, are essential to the experience, as well as shots of busy musical scores that contribute to the cinematic formation of Henry's difficulties. And this is to say nothing of the involvement of Sir Patrick Stewart: so perfectly does he embody the full complexity of humanity, a paragon of acting skill, that to watch him practice his craft for even a moment is a privilege - and to be frank, his role here seems like one that was written just for him. That's not to say that this is the most sophisticated part Stewart has ever taken on, yet he realizes Henry with a natural, fluid gracefulness, and terrific nuance, that's as inviting as a soft blanket on a cool night. Giancarlo Esposito slips with like warm calm into his supporting part; Katie Holmes performs admirably as a character that feels underwritten, as in all honesty Helen sometimes seems more a narrative device to draw out Henry's stresses and inner thoughts than a fully formed person. There's much to appreciate about 'Coda,' and it's a pleasant view, but it does also come across as regrettably weak in important ways.
I must say that the biggest issue I see is perhaps a lack of keen focus in the dialogue and scene writing. There are wide swaths of Louis Godbout's screenplay that are geared towards giving more background on Henry and Helen, or detailing their notions of the need to write or perform, and rolling these up in both personal or secondhand anecdotes and kernels of observation and wisdom. These aspects are not entirely separate from but seem tangential to the central core of an acclaimed pianist struggling with anxiety, doubt, and malaise. It feels like there is greater substance a viewer should be gleaning from 'Coda' as the minutes tick by, yet much of the length passes while making little impression - a feature as lovely as the scenery of the Swiss Alps, but in some measure as thin as the mountain air. We should earnestly feel the same pressure Henry does, and the low-key progression of his arc, but too much of the material lacks the weight to manifest that essence with all due meaningfulness. By genre it is a straight drama, yet by impact the label doesn't necessarily feel appropriate.
This isn't to say that 'Coda' is bad, or not enjoyable. The cinematography and direction are crisp, precise, and wonderful, and the music we get herein is stupendous; just watch for the astounding list of included compositions in the end credits. The cast is swell generally, and Stewart specifically is a joy to watch. The tale is one worth being told. However, a part of me can't help but ponder how much of a tangible, flesh-and-blood movie there is here beyond the legend's involvement. There are whispers here of a character study, or psychological drama, or a quiet, uncomplicated, character-driven narrative. Somehow, for all the enticing potential and actual worth, those whispers scarcely manage to reach our ears. As a result the title is rich and flavorful, but not especially satisfying. I would liken the story to the correct pronunciation of "Bach" (you really need to feel and hear the "h"; "bock" is not a name, but the vocalization of a chicken): it is tactfully made and necessary, yet for paucity of profundity, also kind of emptily pretentious.
I began writing these paragraphs with the intent to recommend 'Coda,' and that holds true, yet on the balance I think I've been more critical than not. That criticism comes from a place of love, and therefore disappointment: I wanted to like this more than I do. I hope other viewers get more out of it than I do. I've watched plenty of other pictures that were even more subtle in displaying their wares; maybe I'm just not properly attuned to this one's exact frequency. The fact remains, though, that in my mind this just doesn't carry the significance that it could. Sir Patrick alone makes it worth watching, as well as the timeless, monumental works of art that constitute the soundtrack. The rest of the picture beyond these two anchors also possesses value - just not nearly as much as I anticipated or hoped. In my opinion 'Coda' deserves a look if you come across it, but it's most recommendable for utmost fans of Stewart or classical music, and if you don't fall into either of those two categories, then approach with tempered expectations.
I must say that the biggest issue I see is perhaps a lack of keen focus in the dialogue and scene writing. There are wide swaths of Louis Godbout's screenplay that are geared towards giving more background on Henry and Helen, or detailing their notions of the need to write or perform, and rolling these up in both personal or secondhand anecdotes and kernels of observation and wisdom. These aspects are not entirely separate from but seem tangential to the central core of an acclaimed pianist struggling with anxiety, doubt, and malaise. It feels like there is greater substance a viewer should be gleaning from 'Coda' as the minutes tick by, yet much of the length passes while making little impression - a feature as lovely as the scenery of the Swiss Alps, but in some measure as thin as the mountain air. We should earnestly feel the same pressure Henry does, and the low-key progression of his arc, but too much of the material lacks the weight to manifest that essence with all due meaningfulness. By genre it is a straight drama, yet by impact the label doesn't necessarily feel appropriate.
This isn't to say that 'Coda' is bad, or not enjoyable. The cinematography and direction are crisp, precise, and wonderful, and the music we get herein is stupendous; just watch for the astounding list of included compositions in the end credits. The cast is swell generally, and Stewart specifically is a joy to watch. The tale is one worth being told. However, a part of me can't help but ponder how much of a tangible, flesh-and-blood movie there is here beyond the legend's involvement. There are whispers here of a character study, or psychological drama, or a quiet, uncomplicated, character-driven narrative. Somehow, for all the enticing potential and actual worth, those whispers scarcely manage to reach our ears. As a result the title is rich and flavorful, but not especially satisfying. I would liken the story to the correct pronunciation of "Bach" (you really need to feel and hear the "h"; "bock" is not a name, but the vocalization of a chicken): it is tactfully made and necessary, yet for paucity of profundity, also kind of emptily pretentious.
I began writing these paragraphs with the intent to recommend 'Coda,' and that holds true, yet on the balance I think I've been more critical than not. That criticism comes from a place of love, and therefore disappointment: I wanted to like this more than I do. I hope other viewers get more out of it than I do. I've watched plenty of other pictures that were even more subtle in displaying their wares; maybe I'm just not properly attuned to this one's exact frequency. The fact remains, though, that in my mind this just doesn't carry the significance that it could. Sir Patrick alone makes it worth watching, as well as the timeless, monumental works of art that constitute the soundtrack. The rest of the picture beyond these two anchors also possesses value - just not nearly as much as I anticipated or hoped. In my opinion 'Coda' deserves a look if you come across it, but it's most recommendable for utmost fans of Stewart or classical music, and if you don't fall into either of those two categories, then approach with tempered expectations.