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QUOTE OF THE WEEK

“If you all took in one cat for every two people here we wouldn’t have a problem.”—Surfside resident Lawrence Levine to opponents of ban on feeding cats on public property

  Last Updated: Friday, July 21, 2006  

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Film Critic 8-28

People’s Champion 

Crissa-Jean Chappell
Review of  “Seabiscuit”
(PG-13) *** 

Seabiscuit is not the true-life story of a racehorse who was too small, a jockey who was too big, and a trainer who was too old. It’s the story of how our country rose from the ashes of the Depression. In her best-selling book, Seabiscuit: an American Legend, published two years ago, Laura Hillenbrand identifies the crooked-legged thoroughbred with the heart of the American people.

 

When the runty racehorse is pitted against War Admiral, the formidable—and much larger—Eastern champion and Triple Crown winner, it represents more than another David and Goliath battle. War Admiral and his dour human counterparts share loftier pedigrees. They smell like Old Money, and their fancy stables smell like nothing at all. On the other hand, Seabiscuit’s owner, Charles Howard (played by the affable Jeff Bridges) begins as a bicycle salesman and makes a fortune selling Buicks. He is the living embodiment of the self-made man. After a family tragedy, he hauls the cars out of his stables and fills them with hay and horses again (another visual metaphor the film emphasizes: the classic battle between the horse and the automobile).

 

Tom Smith (scene-stealer Chris Cooper, who won an Academy Award for playing a swamp rat in Adaptation) is Seabiscuit’s soft-spoken trainer, a solitary relic of the Old West, more comfortable with horses than people. He’s considered a crackpot for rescuing wounded horses that other trainers wanted to shoot. His is the last link to the frontier, where men created their destinies with their bare hands. The world of racing has become a modernized franchise. But Smith represents another kind of self-made man, the one whose patience seems downright old-fashioned compared to the post-Industrial, assembly line pace of the late 1930s. When Tom Smith picks Seabiscuit (played by ten doleful-eyed horses in the film), he knows that, although the broken-down bay is not the biggest, he’s the horse with the most heart, despite the fact that no jockey can get near the thoroughbred, much less ride him. 

 

Tobey McGuire plays the principal jockey, Red Pollard, the hot-tempered, book-loving boy who becomes a surrogate son to Seabiscuit’s owner. As a teenager, the naturally gifted equestrian was sold to the racetrack by his destitute parents. He starts as an exercise trainer and stable boy before wearing the red and white uniform. Howard discovers him in Tijuana, the seamy, south-of-the-border utopia for gambling, drinking, and a myriad of vices outlawed in the Depression-weary States (“In an era when the world really needed a drink, you couldn't get one”).

 

Together, one hard-luck horse and three plucky human handlers serve as icons against the backdrop of the times. Like Roosevelt’s New Deal, the horse gave people something to believe in. Writer-director Ross interlaces the film with sonorous voiceovers (read by historian David McCullough), and black-and-white archival photographs of assembly lines and soup kitchens. In the climatic final race, Ross conveys the start with an announcer’s frenzied voice, and then fades into old photographs of families huddled around radios, reminding us of how people experienced the event. William H. Macy plays the wisecracking radio broadcaster, Tick-Tock McGlaughlin, a reminder that Seabiscuit’s reputation grew out of a relentless media strategy. Although Seabiscuit won speed records out West, he was considered too old to compete in the snooty racing venues of the East. So Howard goes on a whistle-stop campaign (not unlike Truman in 1948) and won the well wishes of the American public. The largest audience in history heard the race’s radio broadcast. While a fringe sport now, horse racing was eclipsed only by baseball in the national sports consciousness.

 

The film depicts the races with the expected amount of thrills, but cinematographer John Schwartzman heightens the tension by shooting breathtakingly close to the action. At times, it seems we are hovering between the horses’ ears, lifted above the track, or perched on a jockey’s shoulder. The film also gives a sense of the danger involved in a jockey’s position, clinging to those powerful animals as they race. Now and then jockeys shout insults as they tighten into a clump or try to punch each other out of the saddle. Real-life Hall of Fame jockey, Gary Stevens, plays George Woolf, the friend and sometime rival of Red, who rode Seabiscuit before thousands in Baltimore. 

Seabiscuit offers a welcome break from a summer clogged by witless sequels and noisy adaptations of comic books and video games. It’s an American story about second chances, told through three shattered men who should have quit, yet never did. 

 

 

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