a review by Jeffrey Overstreet
Writer/director Gary Ross has won an appreciative audience with his latest film. That’s nothing new for him—he made the hits Big, Dave, and Pleasantville. But this time he has a story richer with meaningful metaphors… and it’s also a true story. Seabiscuit is thrilling audiences with its tale of an underdog (underhorse?) that became an inspiration to Americans in the late 30s. But fortunately, it has more to say than just “root for the underdog.”
Perhaps the story of Charles Howard, a hard-working guy who finally made it big in business and then started investing in longshots, echoes Ross’s own journey. You could make that argument. Ross is a successful director who, having no need to prove himself as bankable, is taking on tougher challenges, more complex stories, and he is achieving them with more art and less convention.
I went into Seabiscuit thinking it would be thoroughly predictable, two long hours of clichés. I was nicely surprised. The film shows Ross learning the value of patience, willing to let the power of a story grow more gradually, taking notice of things other directors would overlook. This film has stronger performances than his previous works. And instead of a story about the virtues of indulgence (Pleasantville), it’s a story about showing grace and finding second chances.
Seabiscuit the movie, unlike the horse, is very nice to look at. Cinematographer John Schwartzman (The Rookie, The Rock) makes the races exhilarating, as though he’s filming and participating in the race at the same time. Randy Newman’s soundtrack is perhaps the most traditional thing in the film, but it is never overbearing. Ross paces everything beautifully, striking a nice balance between the stories of three men—an American success story who learns to take chances, a humble and disciplined horse trainer whose attention to detail finally pays off, and a jockey who fights his way through emotional and physical damage to prove his merit.
Jeff Bridges is always trustworthy, and he does solid work here as Charles Howard. Howard was the amateur horse owner who had enough courage to take a chance on an inconspicuous horse and an unlikely jockey. Howard is not a terribly interesting character, since he is confined to musing and making decisions. But in his most intense scene, regarding a death in his family, Bridges knows enough not to wring it for too much emotion.
The show is stolen, however, by Chris Cooper (Adaptation). Cooper, like Seabiscuit, has a way of surprising people. He’s not the most striking actor to look at. He’s easygoing and a little quiet. But he sketches distinct characters in each movie, those secondary personalities that stick with you. Here, he makes a strong impression as the horse’s trainer Tom Smith. Smith is the equivalent of Sam Mussabini in Chariots of Fire, the likeable coach who looks closely and sees things—potential, beauty, guts. Cooper’s genius is in showing enough restraint to only make him slightly unusual. He comes up with a remarkable voice for the man, sounding older than he is, timid, gentle, the kind of man you can imagine would move amongst horses without troubling them.
Tobey Maguire has the toughest job. As the unusually tall and temperamental jockey Johnny Pollard, he gives us a surprisingly complicated man… yes, a man. With this performance, Maguire leaves his boyishness behind him. He burns with the intensity of a seasoned professional who sees his dreams slipping away.
Much has been made about the film being “an American story.” It takes place during the Depression, and we are given archival photos from the period to increase its authenticity. The script gives the narrator lines that airbrush the nation’s recovery from the Depression, but the point is well made: America has always been a nation that roots for the underdog, perhaps because we were once indeed the underdog of the world. And I was surprised by the effective use of narration. It is never intrusive… a rare feat.
In fact, I appreciated many of Gary Ross’s artistic decisions—above all, his choice to make the big, predictable race scenes about more than just the suspense of Who is Going to Win? He makes the race scenes about everyone involved, about the transforming effect of the event on participant and viewer, on rider and coach and trainer. It’s a nice way to defy our expectations and to enrich the experience.
But it troubles me that Ross is so interested in showing us the scope of the race’s effect on people and yet so insistently avoids fundamental facts about the races—the fact that such events exist primarily because people like to gamble. There is no discussion of betting, no discussion of the irresponsibility of the people engaging in such foolhardiness during a time when their families and friends needed whatever funds were available.
This is a significant, but not ruinous, fault for the film. Many viewers will be encouraged by a story that assures us there are those in the world who see past the outward appearance to the virtues of the heart and the mind. The horse, the jockey, and the trainer are all risks taken by Howard, and Howard himself shows himself to be more than just a suit and a smile… precisely because he demonstrated how he values spirit and strength in others.
The victories achieved and the lessons learned by the characters came about because someone believed they could be more than anyone thought. Thus the film becomes a parable about the power of seeing potential and cultivating it, even in those who do not aim so high themselves. It can also be a film about marriage, inadvertently. Faithfulness, in sickness and health, in strength and weakness, has its rewards.
But I think it is important to point out that these men would have been victorious even if the horse had not won. At the movies, we tend to celebrate the choices of the characters if they finally win worldly gain, if they earn trophies, win battles, and come out on top in the end. I find myself looking for films in which the storytellers see the victory that comes merely by striving, not by actually winning. We need to be reminded of the rewards of hard work, and not come to believe that the work itself is valuable only if the goal is achieved.