Stirring, deftly crafted film

Rating: 10/10 (28 July 2003)

I was so impressed with "Seabiscuit" that I saw it twice in three days. And I never do that. This is one fantastic flick. Most of what makes this a winning movie is the story: it's a sincere, warm-hearted tale that seems so perfectly wrought it's difficult to believe it's true. Each character is somehow an underdog that battles the odds and miraculously always comes out on top. Director Gary Ross has done an excellent job guiding the film away from its story's natural inclination towards soapy sentimentality. There's one misstep: the intercutting of several black-and-white depression era photos accompanied by David McCullough's snoozy narration in an attempt to utilize Seabiscuit as a metaphor for the nation's economic ills. I believe that this unexpected champion of a horse who beat the odds gave inspiration to people who hadn't any--but I wanted the film to speak for itself, to tell me this without making a documentary. Doing so takes away from a certain cinematic theatricality that is a real strength in the rest of the film. Why Mr. Ross chose to do so is a bit inexplicable. Still, it is not in large supply, teetering off in the film's final third, and in no way causes harm to the picture. The performances are truly something to marvel at. The three actors at the center of the story, Jeff Bridges (the owner), Tobey Maguire (the jockey) and Chris Cooper (the trainer) breathe such luminous life into their characters that we understand them perfectly and find ourselves caring about their successes and failures as much as they do. Elizabeth Banks is pitch-perfect as Bridge's wife, taking what might have been a sketch-pad role, flashes her eyes at us revealing a complexity behind them, and we find it impossible to ignore her when she's on screen. Always-reliable William H. Macy has great fun with motor-mouthed broadcaster Tick-Tock McGlaughlin in a deliciously vociferous performance. It's also beautifully shot and the racing scenes are some of the most stirring cinematic sequences I've ever seen. Applause broke out numerous times during both screenings, and seemed entirely appropriate. I've found the term crowd-pleaser attached to this film a few times, and not in a complimentary way. My question is--why not? When did Hollywood become so smug that it forgot to inspire its audiences? The most assuring thing about unabashedly cheering in the theater is that you don't feel taken advantage of because it's a true story. I enjoy all sorts of films and can see the merit across genres, and found Seabiscuit to succeed cinematically in every way in its own right. But so what if it also leaves its audiences with dopey grins and life-affirming attitudes. That's the magic of the movies.