The new Stephen Hawking biopic The Theory of Everything is a wonderfully frustrating film that sports a truly spellbinding lead performance by Eddie Redmayne but is lacking in just about every other category. Almost all of its scenes feel like they were designed to provide just enough conflict to advance the story but not enough to challenge the viewer in any way. Perhaps some will be taken with its pleasant and vapid retelling of Hawking’s first marriage but on the whole, I was somehow offended by the inoffensive tone of the entire movie.

We start at Cambridge University in 1963, where the young Hawking meets and subsequently courts a charming literature student named Jane Wilde, played by Felicity Jones. After an innocuous fall in the park, he is diagnosed with motor neuron disease and informed by his campus physician that he has 2 years to live. Despite this revelation, Jane vows to remain by his side as he pursues a burgeoning career in theoretical physics. While their marriage is constantly tested by his worsening condtion, they find solace in a third-party father figure named Jonathan Jones, who is played by Charlie Cox.

Redmayne’s portrayal of Stephen Hawking is nothing short of astonishing and frankly, it may be one of the only compelling reasons to see the film in the first place. He’s able to capture Hawking’s gradual deterioration with an incredible range of facial and physical expressiveness but most importantly, he’s able to convey the spirit of a fiery genius without uttering a single word. Even when he’s wheelchair bound and nearly unintelligible, there’s a devilish wit working tirelessly beneath the surface that Redmayne is able to communicate to the audience on a seemingly telepathic level.

Despite this tremendous performance and Hawking’s remarkable life achievements, the film decides to focus instead on Jane’s struggle as a wife and mother of three children. This perspective could have proven interesting had the execution not been so toothless but more often than not, we’re left with melodramatic scenes that don’t resonate or build to anything meaningful. While the direction by James Marsh is frequently aimless, it deserves to be said that Anthony McCarten’s screenplay is not as overly sentimental as it could have been and light touches of humor are applied gracefully throughout the movie.

Marsh previously crafted the gripping and inventive documentary Man On Wire and it’s a shame to see a talented director create something as stripped down and apprehensive as The Theory of Everything is. Only in its third act when Hawking’s ability to communicate is revitalized do we see glimmers of a more thoughtful movie. I wish to believe that Marsh had a much more clever vision in mind for this story that was suppressed by the film’s producers in order to streamline it for Oscar contention. Redmayne will no doubt get the attention he so rightly deserves but beyond that, the film is a black hole of biopic aspirations.