Dir.
Gary Ross, US, 2003, 141 mins
Cast: Tobey Maguire, Jeff bridges, Chris Cooper, William H. Macy, Elizabeth Banks, Gary Stevens, Eddie Jones
Seabiscuit is a winner! A dead cert front-runner in the race for Oscar.
My, but don't we cheesy critics love a hook like the one afforded by Gary Ross' tale of the little horse with a big spirit, and the three one-time losers who turned him into the biggest sporting success story of depression-hit America.
Tobey Maguire has shed his Spiderman-bulk to play Red Pollard, a loner who is really too tall to pursue his dream of being a jockey. Discovered by Charles Howard (Jeff Bridges), a successful businessman whose personal life is beset with tragedy, and his "horse whisperer" Tom Smith (Chris Cooper), a man considered slightly odd by the racing fraternity because he actually cares about his animals, the two men recognise the same fighting spirit in Red as they see in their horse, Seabiscuit. Smith particularly feels that both boy and horse can be retrained to think they can win, despite the odds, and together they begin to rewrite sporting history. Despite a shaky start, the indomitable team are soon winning races and looking for bigger competitors, with the gauntlet being thrown down to Samuel Riddle (Eddie Jones) for his own horse, War Admiral, a Triple Crown winner, to take on Seabiscuit. Eventually, mainly due to the overwhelming demands of Seabiscuit's adoring public, a date is set and the radio broadcast of the ensuing race went out to the largest audience in history. William H. Macy turns in a delightfully whimsical role as commentator Tick Tock McGlaughlin.
Based on the best seller by Laura Hillenbrand, the timing for this film's release is spot on. This story of three underdogs, and a self-made, yet tragic, millionaire with a heart of gold is the pure schmaltz and triumph-of-courage-over-adversity tale that Americans will find reassuring given the country's current climate. Usually, this is the kind of film to divide opinion straight down the Atlantic divide. However.
. Seabiscuit is a charming film. Sentimental without being overly so, much of its success is in the casting. Here is the wide-eyed Tobey Maguire, painfully thin to the point of anorexia (Red, bigger than the average jockey, has to ensure his weight is kept within the restriction); Chris Cooper, softly-spoken, enigmatic and full of gentle resolve, and big, brash, beaming Jeff Bridges at his most avuncular. If there is to be a criticism it is this: in screenwriting classes, the would-be writer is taught that the film starts when the story starts, and Seabiscuit starts proper once the team come together. Far, far too much time is spent glibly explaining who these men are and why we should be rooting for them. Unfortunately, the events are glossed over so quickly that we don't care about the characters and only begin to do so once the action, in the present, begins to take shape. These back-stories are naturally a crucial requirement to the story's retelling, but could have been delivered so much more concisely and pertinently and, with a running time of 140 mins, could have afforded to be lost. This critic spent the first 40 minutes or so thinking this was the most melodramatic, contrived American pap she'd seen in a long time, only to be riveted by the ensuing fast-paced tale of daring and determination.
The cinematography is beautifully crisp, the russets and golden-brown hues echoing both the natural earthiness of the racetrack, and the picture-postcard image of America and the New England Fall, all of which add to the sense of nostalgia for a golden time. Also, one wonders how interesting x amount of horse races in two hours can be - Ross, and his cinematographer John Schwartzman, meet the challenge with aplomb. The races are tense and dynamic, each a self-contained drama in itself.
All in all, Seabiscuit looks set to be first past the post when it comes to awards. For anyone who appreciates a well-made, moving drama with a good storyline and fine performances, it would be hard for this little horse to put a foot wrong.
Jean Lynch
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