Front Page

The 'Zine

Sunsphere City

Bonus Track

Market Square

Search
Contact us!
About the site

Movie Guru Rating:

Meditative (3 out of 5)

Comment
on this review

This Horse Can-Do

Seabiscuit wins by a nose

by Adrienne Martini

Dear reader,

I have failed you. At a time when you needed me to guide you through the treacherous waters that is the late summer movie silliness, I lost heart. I could not force myself to go see Gigli, no matter how you're supposed to pronounce it. American Wedding, with all of its poop jokes and dick jokes and pubic hair jokes, held no appeal either. As much as I love Alyson Hannigan, I just couldn't sit through two hours in a dark theater watching crap unspool and listening to teenage boys giggle.

What I wanted was an escape from the relentless early August drek and humidity. And so I went to see Seabiscuit, the only flick currently on the multiplex's schedule that looks even vaguely interesting. It promised to be formulaic, certainly, but also full of all of those things that summer movies are known for, like large budgets and a feel-good close. Given the way the summer has gone, which has both sucked and blowed on a number of levels, my spirits were in need of a bit of a rally, no matter how predictable the story.

On that level, Seabiscuit didn't disappoint. You know how the film will end well before the first five minutes unwind. Horatio Alger would be tickled to death at this American tale, full of characters who continually pull themselves up by their bootstraps and succeed despite great odds. Like Charles Howard, an automobile tycoon who turns to horses after a family tragedy and pushes through his pain to succeed. Or Red Pollard, a scrappy, blind-in-one-eye jockey who should be too tall to win, yet does. Or Seabiscuit himself, the horse who is too small and lazy to have an impact but, ultimately, catches the imagination of a country trying to shake off its Depression. It all should be too hokey to be convincing. Despite that, it is.

Some of the film's magic lives in its actors. Jeff Bridges plays Howard as a man brimming with optimism tempered with just enough grit and melancholy to make him interesting. In his hands, this entrepreneur takes on the laid-back cool of The Dude, coupled with Tucker's never-die dreams and can-do moxie. Tobey Maguire as Pollard is light years away from Spider-Man. His Pollard is all bug-eyed anger, a man who is all prick and no soul, until he finds the right keys to unlock his emotions. And Chris Cooper is a smart woman's Clint Eastwood, quiet and tough when he needs to be but always with a warm, sardonic undercurrent.

But there's more to the Seabiscuit magic than its actors. First, there's the story itself. This little, lazy horse managed to do what seemed impossible. His abilities were almost mythic, once he was able to shrug off the wounds of the past. And the metaphor hit just the right note in the public's consciousness at the time. Here was a winner despite the odds, one who pushed forward in the face of 25 percent unemployment rates and bread lines and Hoovervilles. Seabiscuit was hope on four hooves—and on the day he ran his most important race, almost every radio in the country was tuned in.

But the Seabiscuit factor extends beyond this one horse's life span. Laura Hillenbrand, the woman who wrote the best-selling book on which the film is based, has had to overcome her own debilitating odds. Not only did she successfully navigate the New York publishing industry waters, she battled her own health. As cliché as the phrase has become, in her case it is true. Since the late '80s, Hillenbrand has been crippled by Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and recent wrote a harrowing account of her ordeal for the New Yorker. It is a fascinating read, and one that makes you admire both her determination and that of her subjects.

If the whole thing weren't true, no one would ever believe it. But it is, and you do, despite lines like "It's better to break a man's leg than his heart," which incite guffaws when read them but work on the screen. That, dear readers, is where I failed you. Rather than maintain my critical distance and pick Seabiscuit apart for its sentimentality and fuzzy-hearted nature, I got sucked in and enjoyed the heck out of it. It was uplifting, damn it. And while it probably won't stand up to repeated viewings or any detailed analysis, it is one hell of a ride while it lasts.

Next week, I promise to do better.

Sincerely,
Adrienne


  August 7, 2003 * Vol. 13, No. 32
© 2000 Metro Pulse