Hi, everyone. "Moriarty" here with some Rumblings From The Lab...
I just got my invite to this, but I won’t be in town. I’d be bummed, but I’m still not sure I care. So far, the trailers look to me like I’ve seen this film before. Many times over. Let’s see what the normally reliable Beaks has to say for himself:
SEABISCUIT (w. & d. Gary Ross, based on the book by Laura Hillenbrand)
It’s tough being burdened with the expectations of millions of adoring readers, but heaping on the extra load of being perceived (and sold) as the counter-programming savior of a summer quickly growing leg weary seems positively brutal. Still, here comes SEABISCUIT anyway, charging down the stretch to its long-awaited release, bereft of any tangible buzz (not one test screening review found its way to AICN), while drawing the close scrutiny of all those enchanted by the apparently wonderful book (don’t look at me, I only read cereal boxes), and everyone else looking for something remotely grown-up after this extraordinarily action-heavy summer. Will it win, place, or blow? (I’m wincing at that one, too.)
An unsubtle piece of Depression-era uplift, SEABISCUIT plays to the cheap seats, working the tear ducts with a Spielberg-ian relentlessness as it tells its improbable tale of three men and a horse brought together through misery and in miserable times to become unlikely symbols of hope to a nation struggling to pick itself off of the canvas. There has already been a good deal written about how this story could inspire anew a country currently mired in an economic downturn that everyday seems one step closer to a genuine depression, and the film never misses a chance to rally audiences with homilies like, “You don’t throw a whole life away just because it’s banged up a little.” At times, the picture often approaches the overblown, mythic grandeur of THE NATURAL (thanks in no small part to Randy Newman’s uplifting score, and John Schwartzman’s sun-drenched cinematography, applied to similar evocative effect in last year’s THE ROOKIE), but SEABISCUIT is devoid of that film’s Faustian undertones, celebrating the moxie of its broken down quartet of has-beens and never-weres, rather than warning against the hubris of the prodigiously gifted.
The film’s two most endearing characters are Red Pollard (Tobey Maguire) and the titular horse, both of whom have the talent, but are restrained by physical imperfections. Pollard is an itinerant, too-tall jockey forever struggling to keep his weight down below 115 lbs., lest he be too heavy to ride. Separated early in life from his destitute parents, he’s also brash and, as is disclosed later in the film, blind in one eye. But he keeps hammering away, taking awful beatings in cash fights or working humiliating stable gigs just to stay close to the action, and, most importantly, subsist. Meanwhile, Seabiscuit, a grandson of the storied Man o’War, has been consigned to training other, more promising racehorses, while scaring off potential buyers by virtue of its reputation as a mean, recalcitrant beast. When purchased by the wealthy automobile salesman Charles Howard (Jeff Bridges) – a man perpetually nursing the heartbreak of his young son’s tragic death – on the advice of idiosyncratic horse-trainer, Tom Smith (Chris Cooper), the animal is a hard-luck long shot blessed with blurring speed, but hampered by a wildness that threatens to end its racing career before it begins. What jockey would be fool enough to risk their life by breaking this horse in?
The moment of inspiration that leads Smith to bring together the troubled duo of Pollard and Seabiscuit is emblematic of the clever, if brazenly manipulative, touch that has been one of Ross’s chief strengths since BIG, and if this scene induces a hearty belly-laugh in the viewer, then they’re in the film’s clutches for the duration. With all the pieces of this improbable tale in place, the story strides confidently forward as this alliance of the downtrodden and discarded begin to make a little noise on the West Coast racing circuit that builds to a roar as soon as the underdog animal begins racking up an impressive string of victories. A symbol of the indomitable spirit of the American working-class, Seabiscuit’s obvious rival emerges in the Triple-Crown winning form of War Admiral, a product of Eastern affluence, and owned by millionaire Pennsylvanian entrepreneur, Samuel Riddle. Though Riddle repeatedly ducks any opportunity for the horses to race each other, Howard keeps at it, working the press with charismatic aplomb (which essentially gives Bridges the chance to play Preston Tucker again). But when Riddle finally relents to a conditions-laden one-on-one match-up at War Admiral’s home track, tragedy strikes, threatening to tear asunder the winning combination of Pollard and Seabiscuit not only for this solitary race, but for good.
The most intriguing, and structurally risky aspect of SEABISCUIT (and what will determine its ability to win over audiences in the manner many expect) is the way it builds to a false climax only to, like the horse itself, fall back coming ‘round the final turn to take on one more complication. And though it might, in theory, seem terribly convoluted and tacked-on, this improbable twist is apparently an accurate retelling of the way things actually went down. Still, even if it had all been little more than a bullshit Hollywood embellishment, that still wouldn’t change the fact that this comprises the film’s most deeply moving passage, setting up one last race that should leave all but the most cynical a blubbering mess. That it’s not at all emotionally disingenuous is due mostly to the heartfelt conviction of Ross’s well-paced storytelling. The sophomore follow-up to his flawed, but intermittently brilliant PLEASANTVILLE, Ross demonstrates a veteran’s flair with SEABISCUIT, coaxing dependably solid performances from his talented trio of actors, while also getting a turn out of Elizabeth Banks, who plays Marcela, Howard’s young second wife, that suggests she may have range beyond her enjoyably ditzy appearances in WET HOT AMERICAN SUMMER and SWEPT AWAY. Ross does get a little too cute with the way he stages the big races (e.g. I wasn’t crazy about the way he cut to a radio broadcast accompanied by still photography at the outset of the War Admiral showdown), and though his desire to avoid cliché is commendable, in the context of a genre that thrives on obviousness, these embellishments are unnecessary and a little distracting. That said, the races themselves are invigoratingly filmed, capturing both the fury and exhilaration of these grueling events.
And, in a well-intentioned, crowd-pleasing spectacle such as this, that’s all that matters. It ain’t art, but it’s awfully affecting, and refreshingly humanistic, positioning it as the much needed antidote to the dark-hearted, Dionysian bloodbath that is BAD BOYS II. SEABISCUIT, for all its overt sentimentality, and in spite of its flaws, is a very easy film to love.
Faithfully submitted,
Mr. Beaks
Thanks, man. That helps a lot.
"Moriarty" out.
