Slick and Glossy...

Rating: Null/10 (24 August 2005)

Apparently, Robert Redford's depression-era fable is from a Hindu text called Bhagavad Gita. It takes a rare imagination to transplant a story of Ancient Indian warriors to the golf courses of American South, so it's strange that the same imagination can't free itself from the conventions of classical Hollywood plotting. While the film is always entertaining, the story it tells is never less than 100% predictable. This same can be said of many movies, but BAGGER VANCE appears to hold itself out as something different, as if it's going to offer something new and sort-of meaningful when really all it's doing is rehashing the increasingly tired 'sport as a metaphor for life' theme.
Rannulph Junuh (Matt Damon), once a hotshot teenage golfer, lives in drunken semi-seclusion in his hometown of Savannah after a traumatic experience in the Great War. Junuh is a lost soul, a fact signified by Redford's insistence in obscuring his leading actor's face in shadow for the early scenes. His former girlfriend, Adele Invergordon (the somewhat delicious Charlize Theron) also has troubles: her father committed suicide after the Great Crash wiped out his fortune, leaving her with an expensive white elephant of a golf resort and a mountain of debt. She determines to hold a challenge match between America's two greatest players to raise funds to pay off her debts and, having persuaded/tricked them into taking part in a too-contrived fashion, discovers that the townsfolk won't stand for it unless a local hero also takes part. This is where young Hardy Greaves (J. Michael Moncrief), the narrator introduced to us as a dying present-day Jack Lemmon, steps in and suggests Junuh. Naturally Junuh refuses, but then has his mind changed by young Adele stripping to her undies. Trouble is, Junuh has lost his swing, which is where Bagger Vance (Will Smith) makes his entrance, braving the golf balls Junuh is whacking into the night at all angles, and jauntily proclaiming, "I positioned myself right in front of you, 'cause from the way your swings were going', I figured that was the safest place". Bagger is a figure of mystery, perhaps guardian angel, perhaps God, literally emerging from the darkness in answer to the apparent cry for help Junuh made when he picked up his golf clubs again
This film is such a slick and glossy example of Hollywood professionalism that at times you find yourself suddenly jettisoned from the story to reflect on how damn slick it all is. The cinematography is at times sublime, offering us rich images of the southern states in the midst of a depression, the worst consequence of which seems to be that young Hardy's father is forced to take a job cleaning the streets. This is the old MGM style of movie-making, a world that bears only a passing resemblance to our own, and in which townsfolk urge a young boy to "fly with wing-ed sandals on your feet" as the eager mite dashes off to plead with the town drunk to pick up the sticks once more. It's almost endearing in its way, and if it weren't for the aura of falsity that keeps seeping in and out of the proceedings, it might be something worth shouting about.
A major problem is the casting. Theron is fine in a role that doesn't call for much more than a spunky female who looks good in vibrant 30s costumes, but Damon and Smith are both miscast. Damon's just about the right age to play Junuh, but his pretty boy features simply don't bear the marks of a decade-plus of alcohol-fuelled trauma. Damon is the type of guy who, when he's fifty is going to look like a 25-year-old with wrinkles; at the age of thirty he looks like a twenty-year-old who hasn't even begun to sample life; he's lost us before he even opens his mouth, which is a shame because he's a good actor who brings a lot to his roles. Nevertheless, Damon could just about squeeze by without requiring too much suspension of belief on the part of the viewer, but Smith simply doesn't have a chance. He's easily about twenty-five years too young for the role, and growing a beard doesn't make that much of a difference. All the time I was watching the film I kept thinking of a mature character actor like Morgan Freeman as more suited to the part, and was surprised to discover that Freeman had been Redford's first choice for the role but that he had decided against him in favour of a younger actor. I can understand Redford choosing to stand down as Junuh, but selecting Smith over Freeman just doesn't make sense  unless you're an accountant. That's not to say Smith doesn't give a good performance, in fact he's very good and, after all the no-brainer blockbusters he's appeared in over the past few years you start feeling optimistic about what might be ahead from him, but no actor, no matter how good, could come out on top when called upon to wrestle with some of the truly laughable lines he delivers that are supposed to be laden with deep mystical meaning.
Despite all this, THE LEGEND OF BAGGER VANCE kept me interested for the entirety of its long and slowly-paced running time. Redford conjures up some memorable images and manages to revisit themes he has explored a number of times now without the material growing stale. It all harks back to the kind of uplifting fare Hollywood churned out by the truckload back in its Golden Era, which is no bad thing. It's old-fashioned for sure, and shamelessly tries to manipulate the audience at times, but it has such a good-natured heart that, unless you're the deepest of cynics, you'll probably find yourself being drawn in.