One of the most revealing things I have learned about Leonard Bernstein was that he insisted on being called “Lenny” by everyone who knew him, from housemaids to cab drivers to ushers at the theater.

He had great fame but few airs and pretensions.

He was a person of great love and passion.

He conducted orchestras with every part of his body and soul, transferring his emotions to the dazzled audiences who came to see him.

As someone who cried every time I saw him conduct, I was eager to see this movie.

I liked it, but I didn’t love it. It is an excellent movie, but not the great one I was hoping for. I think Cooper stumbled when deciding to focus on his marriage rather than his music.

I was a little wary when I saw “Maestro” this afternoon.

The movie is the touching and sad story of one of the world’s most famous and revered conductors and the first great American composer in history.

The reviews suggested that this was mostly the story of Bernstein’s troubled but loving relationship with a Broadway actress. Felicia Montealgegre, played by Carey Mulligan.

The reviews were correct.

I should preface this essay by saying I have always had a deep love and respect for Bernstein and the music he conducted.

His passion and emotions were so deep and open that they made me cry whenever I saw him conduct at the New York Philharmonic or in his many televised performances.

His open emotions go through me like a blood transfusion. It might have been difficult to please me.

Bradley Cooper, who plays Bernstein, set out to capture the agony and ecstasy of Bernstein’s love. “Lenny” was a genius who loved music of any kind and could create it brilliantly in almost any form – plays, dances, songs, teaching.

Cooper did a valiant job, but I wish he had used a more practiced and charismatic actor than himself to capture a person who was and is more significant than life.

He did his best, and it was very good but Bernstein doesn’t look like him, and I quivered a bit when the movie ended with the real Berstein conducting an orchestra. I cried when I saw that. I don’t think Cooper was up to it, for all the hype about Hollywood tricks for disguise and detail.

At several points in the movie, I also felt that a lot of it, if not most, was centered on Felicia, who loved Bernstein as he loved her but could not reconcile herself to his public and indiscreet romances with men.

Other people might react differently, but I was puzzled to see her dominating the movie so much when she wasn’t nearly as interesting as her husband.

This was a chance to learn how Bernstein made and conceived his music and how he became the most famous conductor in the world. Not this time.

I’ve read various Bernstein biographies that detail his relationships with men, including the great composer Aaron Copeland and perhaps his most intense male lover, David Oppenheim, came about.

I wanted to know how he conceived of his music and the process he used.

One of the tragedies of Berstein’s life was to see several of his closest male lovers die painfully from Aids.

Bernstein was unfailingly generous and supportive of these victims at a time when the President of the United States wouldn’t even speak the word “aids” in his public appearances.

Almost all of his genuine and intense relationships with men were treated as fleeting, even casual,  if at all. It might be that they were the most meaningful of all.

Bernstein was known for paying for health care, rent, and nursing support for his gay friends and lovers.

The relationships I read about were not one-night stands, they were deep and long lasting.

Bernstein and Felicia did love each other, but like so many married couples of the time, they had to live a lie since it was a dangerous time to admit being gay or being married to someone who was.

At the movie’s end, Bernstein is shown as utterly devoted to Felicia, whose life he had made miserable for years. But his real commitments seemed elsewhere, at least in real life.

And Felicia admits to a friend that she was the one who was dishonest, not Bernstein.

(Why wasn’t this film titled “Lenny?”)

At times, I thought this was the story of Felica as much as it was the story of Bernstein. It feels like a Hollywood version of Bernstein’s life, almost honest but somewhat too choreographed and slick.

Cooper has made a fast-packed, beautiful, and touching chronicle of a famous and brilliant life, a whole of highs, lows, creative passions, and artistic milestones. But to me, this is more evidence that we cannot safely, efficiently, or lovingly lie to our partners or the world outside and have a happy and lasting relationship.

Bernstein was openly gay and happy about it, but he couldn’t keep up the lie for Felicia; he just wouldn’t or couldn’t be discreet about it.

She knew that and accepted it, but it wasn’t enough for her, and she turned angry, even vicious, at times when his sexuality came unapologetically into the open. It seemed to me that they loved one another as best friends and as people who had given birth to three beautiful children. It wasn’t enough.

It felt like the two kept unconsciously using one another: Felicia to be married to this remarkable human and have children, and Bernstein, happy to use his marriage as a cover to hide who he was.

One of the film’s most potent moments can be found at Bernstein’s country home in Connecticut after the birth of one of his children.

The scene opens with Berstein walking across the vast lake with his daughter in his arms. He strolls over to his best friend and sometime lover, Aaron Copeland, another brilliant and gifted musician.

“Lenny,” as he was known by everyone, even maids and hotel doormen, holds the baby gently and holds him up so that Copeland can see the baby’s face.

Bernstein holds the baby close and cuddles him, and the two men sit quietly. The moment’s tenderness says as much or more about Berstein’s true self than almost anything else in the movie.

Almost all of the film’s most deeply felt and touching scenes involved Bernstein with his children and closest male friends and lovers.

This bothered me about the movie; I felt it was as much about Felicia’s sad, disappointing, and painful life as it was about Bernstein’s remarkable generosity, love for people, and immeasurable genius.

That was the movie I feared I would see, and the movie I did see.

His genius, not his music, made him one of the most beloved people in much of the world. I would have loved to learn more about that or see it in action.

The reviews are almost all raves; I’m in the minority here.

The camera work is lovely and imaginative. I ended up being fascinated but somewhat disappointed. It wasn’t the Bernstein I saw and loved.

Bernstein was a great man, one of the greatest of his time.

He alone brought classical music back to life, and after his death, it has been receding rapidly once more. It was astonishing to see teenagers showing up in droves at Lincoln Center to see him conduct classical music. Now, they’re all on TikTok and YouTube.

Bernstein succeeded with his talent but failed to revive classical music for the long haul, which was his great goal. It didn’t stick as he did.

I had this feeling that political correctness might be part of the reason the movie focused so much on a character who was not the star, as represented. She was a woman humiliated.

I have no trouble recommending it. It is one of the most compelling movies of the year and will surely win many Oscars and other awards.

I was troubled to see that the accurate Bernstein, the real one, appeared just as the credits rolled, which was my best evening performance. Cooper looked much like Bernstein but could never capture his incredible and passionate emotion.

If Carey Milligan stole the show a bit from Cooper, then the real Lenny in the cameo blew both off the stage.