Originally posted to the DMI Review on 4/14/13
A Good Ol' Fashioned American Hero
Every time a new film comes out, one that I'm looking forward to, I do something I really shouldn't. I read the reviews. Yes, I'm fully aware of the irony. I guess I should be a bit more specific: I read too many reviews. Sometimes I'm just afraid of spoilers, in which case I refer to just a few sentences from favorite critics and Rotten Tomatoes to guide my expectations, then going back to read the reviews once I've seen the film. In the case of a film like 42, one which doesn't offer a story of twists and surprises, I just don't want reviews to spoil the experience. I had the same problem with Lincoln, as both that film and 42 are movies I had read about for years, and eagerly anticipated once they actually came to fruition. Those of you familiar with my personal taste in film will understand why my interest in this Jackie Robinson biopic increased exponentially when Harrison Ford signed on to play Brooklyn Dodgers general manager Branch Rickey, a chance for a dramatic turn in a quality film (I may love Ford's work, but I don't delude myself about many of his recent films). Needless to say, I was looking forward to 42, and then reviews started pouring in, some criticizing the film for its "hagiographic" portrayal of Robinson. You know what? They're right, but it's still a good film.
42 covers the years of 1945 to 1947, during which time a young African American man named Jack Roosevelt Robinson went from being a shortstop for the Kansas City Monarchs (a Negro League team) to being the first baseman for the Brooklyn Dodgers. Did I mention that Robinson became the first black player in Major League Baseball when he joined Dem Bums from Brooklyn? Well, you probably knew that already, and the film doesn't pretend that you aren't familiar with Jackie Robinson and his achievements in baseball. By focusing on such a relatively brief period of Robinson's life, the audience can go on that journey with him, not reveling so much in his talent as his perseverance. A great scene in the film encapsulates its approach to Robinson's struggle, when Rickey pressures his prospective new player to tell him if he can handle an angry, inert white world. Robinson asks if Rickey wants a player who has the guts to fight back. "No!" barks the manger, "I want a player who's got the guts not to fight back." As Rickey and his scouts establish at the film's start, there were plenty of talented ballplayers in the Negro Leagues, but they needed someone who would neither crack under the pressure nor explode in a fit of rage when faced with rampant bigotry.
This inner strength, as well as charm, humor, and just a hint of naïveté, is brought to life by Chadwick Boseman, the relative unknown tasked with the "American Legend" the film's posters and trailers proclaim Robinson to be. Boseman is excellent in the role, although it doesn't hurt that I have no real perception of Robinson aside from him being a trailblazing man in a Dodgers uniform. Jackie Robinson is an American Legend, more than earning that capital "L," although unlike more historically distant figures like Abraham Lincoln and George Washington, Robinson's place in our popular culture is still being established by films like 42 (although the famous Dodger played himself in 1950's The Jackie Robinson Story). Most people know who he is, but many, like myself, don't really know the man behind the number. This film does fall prey to giving us a legendary man, rather than a man who became a legend, never showing us any of Robinson's faults*. Despite this, Boseman acquits himself quite nicely, creating a three-dimensional person with Robinson's charisma and fortitude alone.
Just as Boseman shines as Jackie, Harrison Ford gives an equally charming performance as Branch Rickey, the irascible, humorously crusading manager who made it his personal mission to integrate baseball. As stated above, Ford is a favorite of mine, and by inhabiting the role of a famously colorful individual, he is given the chance to switch out his fedora and bullwhip for yet another fedora (brim turned up) and an endless stream of ever-present cigars. I've heard Ford's Rickey called "cartoonish," but with an understanding of Rickey's real-life flair, the performance seems less exaggerated and more grounded with each passing minute of his screen time. For all of Ford's great work here, the character nearly becomes a caricature before being sufficiently fleshed out with an eleventh-hour scene in which Rickey explains to Robinson his personal motivation for integrating the game.
Now, as I readily admit at the start of this review, 42 is indeed a bit of hagiography in the name of the patron saint of baseball. The film is about as earnest as it could be, and its racist antagonists seem to share an archetypical Jim Crow mindset, but this doesn't really hurt the film. Once again, Jackie Robinson is now a legend, but he's yet to be given marble monuments, or his face carved into the side of a mountain, so a film that paints him in a pretty great light can be forgiven for at least not being a retread of the (non-existant) countless films and tributes that have come before**. 42 was written and directed by Brian Helgeland (Oscar winner for co-writing the fantastic L.A. Confidential), and his passion for the subject matter is evident, although his reverence for it is what can occasionally drain the film of its power. It's not even that the film's poorly written, but rather that it's a very old fashioned approach, and as one review I read noted, it's not dissimilar to the kind of film in which Jimmy Stewart would feel at home. Throw in a score that, like the script, is on occasion just a bit too much, and you'll readily understand why the film falls short of being legendary itself. Mark Isham's (no relation) work here is reminiscent of Randy Newman's triumphant sounds from The Natural (a baseball flick I've yet to see), and for the most part it is effective, if not quite memorable. The last thing that, to this reviewer, held 42 back ever so slightly was its direction by Helgeland, framing many of his shots in a fairly basic way. Once more, this is nothing bad, just ordinary, although the scenes out on the field have a certain electricity and energy to them, giving the most dynamic parts of the film the most dynamic camera work.
42 is most definitely a film that will be remembered, and probably loved by many. It is not a modern American masterpiece, nor the best sports film of recent years (that honor belongs to Moneyball; Go Athletics!), but it is a pretty good portrait of, and tribute to, one of the most admirable athletes of the last century. Jackie Robinson did something extraordinary when he was given the chance by Branch Rickey, and together those men ushered in a new way of life not just in baseball, but in the country that calls that game its favorite pastime. God knows America has enough legendary heroes to fawn over, but there are those that, despite their true dimensions or faults, really do deserve the same old fashioned treatment Gary Cooper might've gotten. Something has to keep our legends legendary. Maybe it's a towering monument, or maybe its a film that wears on it's sleeve the love of a certain game and the man who changed it forever. 8/10
*I don't know that he had any faults worth depicting, but his politics and thoughts on race in America post-baseball career are apparently a different dimension worthy of a look.
**I realize that Jackie Robinson and his achievements (both as a the first black baseball player and as a great player in general) are well known and well remembered by many familiar with American culture, but for generations born after Robinson's time in the sun (and for those of us who aren't baseball historians), there haven't been many mainstream portrayals, or presentations, of this man. I've always known him as a pioneer ballplayer, but that's the same as knowing Lincoln was president, and nothing more. People should know a little more about their legends.