In light of the foregoing, one might hypothecize that if a primary goal of filmmakers is to tell an interesting story, the task at hand here for director James Marsh is at least slightly more challenging without the backdrop of battle than it was for the directors of the other three biopics. I am sorry to report that, despite some creditworthy aspects, the challenge is not met.
Although Professor Hawking is presented as a truly unique and gifted character, the film has too many consecutive minutes of stagnancy and too many repetitive scenes. In The Theory Of Everything, the magnificent feats of the protagonist are realized in a university lecture hall, not a place typically lending itself to excitement. Hawking (Eddie Redmayne) is a physicist whose primary field is the study of time, and particularly how time relates to an explanation of how the universe began. Hawking's theories on that subject change over the years, sometimes espousing a singular moment of initiation and sometimes not, all the while balancing the mystery of the existence of God. Later, he determines that the universe, as immense as it may be, does not occupy a finite space; it is ever expanding.
While there is no first person narration, the story is based on the recollections of his first wife, Jane (Felicity Jones), as written in her memoir, Travelling To Infinity: My Life With Stephen. Therefore, one has to wonder if we are watching an impartial rendering of what really happened during their relationship. Stephen and Jane meet at a stuffy party at Cambridge, a university where no male student would be caught dead without his tie, a buttoned vest and a tweed jacket. The young couple sequester themselves on a staircase for a quiet conversation. He is bashful, so she takes the lead by handing him her phone number on a napkin. (I kept waiting for him to spill a drink on it, thus obliterating what she'd written. Had he done so, that may have caused the film to come to an abrupt, immediate ending after a running time of approximately twenty minutes.) They start seeing each other, but shortly thereafter his disease strikes. His doctor sympathetically tells him he has two years to live. Stephen decides it's better to face it alone, but Jane stands by him. Not only do they marry, but three children follow.
Most of the rest of the movie shows how his star rises in scientific circles, all the while becoming more victimized by his disease. First he resists using a wheelchair, but relents when the conveniences of a motorized chair are displayed. When Stephen realizes that Jane, alone, can't continue to "nurse" him and be a mother to their kids, he reluctantly accedes to accepting the help of Jonathan, a church choir director whom Jane has hired as their son's piano instructor. The more Jonathan is in the Hawking household, the more his role evolves as he lends his vital assistance to the caring of Stephen. After over an hour of treading water to that point, the movie's addition of Jonathan to the story supplies a much-needed dynamic. The role of Jonathan is played perfectly by Charlie Cox. Jonathan is a man of God, but still, just a man. Jane is an attractive woman. Will their closeness take them anywhere?
The last quarter of the movie is disappointing, almost as if a different script writer and director have taken over. Things are rushed, abrupt changes are left unexplained, and unexpected outcomes have shallow roots. In its totality, The Theory Of Everything leaves a little to be desired. But Redmayne is a delight. When Hawking peers up through those huge sixties style specs as he's slumped over in his chair, probably aching but nevertheless smiling, you just want to give him a hug.
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