The Theory of Everything is a textbook case of Oscar bait. Movie about universally loved historic figure? Check. Transformative performance from lead actor? Check. Story about the power of love? Check. Period piece set in the UK? CHECKMATE.
The Theory of Everything follows the courtship, marriage, and trials of Stephen Hawking (Eddie Redmayne) and his first wife Jane (Felicity Jones). The two become drawn to each other at Cambridge University while Hawking was making his discoveries in physics and Jane is studying medieval poetry. Hawking gets diagnosed with ALS, the disease that cripples his body function. The couple plow through though, getting married and having 3 kids in the process. As time goes on though, we see the amazing couple go through similar marital problems like wandering eyes and inhibited personal growth.
The Theory of Everything suffers from time constraints much like its subject. Stephen Hawking’s entire life is crammed into 2 hours of movie time. As such, many compelling parts of his life are truncated to move the story along quickly. We get about 5 minutes of Hawking’s depression after the ALS diagnosis, eliminating Jane’s effect on his recovery and establishing an important part of her character. Most importantly, the messy breakup of their marriage is rushed; in less than 5 minutes of screen time, we see Dr. Hawking become infatuated with his speech therapist and bounce out of his marriage. To director James Marsh’s credit, the scene where Hawking brings this up to Jane is fantastic, but it is very unearned. That being said, The Theory of Everything’s story is rarely boring and often very compelling. The life diagnosis gives Hawking’s physics efforts real stakes, and the story does a good job working in Jane’s religion into Hawking’s studies, which paints Jane as more an equal than just a subservient wife.
The best comparison to The Theory of Everything is A Beautiful Mind, a story about a brilliant man with a famous illness and a long suffering wife. The difference is The Theory of Everything is based on Jane Hawking’s memoir. While A Beautiful Mind put John Nash front and center, The Theory of Everything gives equal footing to Jane and Stephen Hawking, focusing on the marriage first and foremost. The courtship and marriage of the Hawkings contains the strongest material, dealing with unique and adult problems gracefully. While Jane Hawking is a compelling and surprisingly interesting character, Stephen Hawking’s life has much more nuance and complicated arcs that deserve screen time, such as his physics pursuit, ALS diagnosis after effects, and speech therapist relationship. The Theory of Everything would have benefitted from a truncated time period to cover just the Hawking household instead of encapsulating a thoroughly complicated life into one film.
Eddie Redmayne is better known to me as a singer than an actor, famous for Les Miserables and other musicals. His transformation into Stephen Hawking is exceptional. Redmayne absorbs Hawking’s early gangliness with physical activity, and combines it with a terrifying deterioration. At the end, Redmayne can only use his eyes to tell anyone what he wants, but we instantly know what is going on in the physicist’s mind because of how well Redmayne becomes the character. All the praise he is getting is well deserved. Felicity Jones gives Jane Hawking a very strong will and likeability. At first, Jones is just playing cute, but as ALS takes hold, Jones becomes a fierce determined woman pushing her love forward and becoming a big factor in his success. In addition, Jones shows us Jane’s emotional toll and frustration at bearing the family’s entire physical burden. Charlie Cox does great work as a family friend of the Hawking’s that clearly has feelings for Jane, and David Thewlis and Harry Lloyd do well with underwritten parts as college friends of Stephen.
All most people seem to know about Stephen Hawking is his computerized voice. The Theory of Everything at least gives us insight into influences on the amazing man. Eddie Redmayne’s performance alone is a good enough reason for people to see just how terrible Lou Gehrig’s disease actually is. I’m now in favor of changing ALS to be known as Stephen Hawking’s disease; it would give hope to all those poor people who suffer from it that within themselves still lies the ability to perform great acts.