Hard-drinking, chain smoking, uber-grizzled country singer Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) makes his way from venue to crumby venue, works with pick-up bands, enjoys the attentions of the occasional middle-aged groupie, and wonders where his career has gone. And then he falls for young, tasty local reporter Jean Craddock (Maggie Glynenhaal) and things could be looking up.

This is an amiable examination of a niche corner of American culture, but unfortunately, not much more than that. The film ambles along pleasantly enough, but until two-thirds of the way through there isn’t anything you would call real drama, and when the crisis does come it is resolved pretty quickly. True, along the way we hear some very good music (Bridges, and Colin Farrell playing a young former protégé, sing very well) and we see some stunning South-Western landscapes, but, to be blunt, the plot is excessively thin.

As a character study it’s fine. Bridges at first seems to be exploring the clichés of the role, but his performance does deepen and he does generate empathy. All the other parts are fleshed out well enough. If you hanker after cowboy boots, the open road and country music, then you have a pleasant two hours in store, but many will wonder: so what? It’s all fairly well-trodden territory. This film doesn’t ask any really pertinent questions, and therefore doesn’t need to answer them. Bridges is in the running for an Oscar. In truth, if he ever deserved one it was for another music pic, The Fabulous Baker Boys, but that was back in ’89. Still, weirder things have happened.