'The Theory of Everything' gets everything right

At this morning's Toronto Film Festival screening of The Theory of Everything, I spotted Chaz Ebert, widow of the late Roger Ebert, talking with a friend. And I couldn't help thinking about two things: Roger Ebert's brilliant observation that the movies are "an empathy machine," and how profound and poignant watching this film must have been for Mrs. Ebert. That's because The Theory of Everything is the story of the young Stephen Hawking, his courtship and marriage to his wife Jane, and how Jane stood by his side as he declined

from motor neuron disease (and was initially told he only had two more years to live). Chaz Ebert, of course, similarly was the rock in her husband Roger's life as he became debilitated by thyroid and gland cancer.

Most of us are guilty of thinking of Hawking as that genius in a wheelchair with the distorted face and the computer-generated voice like HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey. James Marsh's film, a highly efficient empathy machine, restores Hawking as a human being we can all relate to, oh-so-movingly. And much of that is due to the superb performance of Eddie Redmayne as Hawking, taking him from a nerdy but engaging Cambridge student to the first symptoms of his disability through to his frightening loss of physical control. It's a tour de force on par with Daniel Day Lewis' Oscar-winning turn in My Left Foot.

But equally compelling is Felicity Jones as the incredibly supportive Jane. She and Redmayne share an instant chemistry onscreen that makes the testing of their relationship all the more sad to witness. Stephen's stubborn insistence on maintaining a degree of independence only makes Jane's life more stressful; a memorable moment when Stephen struggles to crawl upstairs and comes face-to-face with his infant son behind a baby guard is a painful visualization of what lies ahead. When a handsome church choir master (Charlie Cox) enters their lives and becomes an invaluable helpmate to the family, Jane endures a different sort of pressure, though she remains faithful to her husband. (They did finally divorce in 1995.)

Marsh, best known for his excellent documentaries Man on Wire and Project Nim, proves himself a first-class narrative director here. The film is gorgeously photographed (by Benoit Delhomme) and designed (by John Paul Kelly), and the economy and visual resourcefulness of Marsh's storytelling are exemplary. Though the subject is downbeat, Anthony McCarten's screenplay has an effervescence that captures Hawking's humor, sense of mischief and even flirtiness. (When he first tries out his computerized voice, he quotes HAL's "Daisy, daisy, give me your answer do.") McCarten also deftly handles the difficult task of making Hawking's theories fairly understandable to the layman. Thematically, those theories are mirrored in Hawking's own diminution.

And now it's time to pick up a copy of A Brief History of Time...

My Sunday in Toronto ended with another great biopic, Bill Pohlad's Love & Mercy, the story of Brian Wilson, the musical genius behind all that iconic Beach Boys music. Paul Dano plays the 60s Wilson in remarkably authentic scenes re-enacting the recording of the classic Pet Sounds; John Cusack is the 80s Wilson being rescued by his future wife Melinda (Elizabeth Banks) from the oppressive influence of his demented shrink, Dr. Eugene Landy (Paul Giamatti). Most thrilling of all here in Toronto, Brian and Melinda Wilson were in the audience watching this absorbing movie. Time to listen to Pet Sounds again..