A great story, but merely a good movie.
The H-Bomb: In post-war 1940’s America, fascism has been defeated overseas, but here at home, segregation still exists in practically every facet of society; in schools, buses, restaurants, restrooms, and professional sports. Brooklyn Dodgers general manager Branch Rickey (Harrison Ford) feels that it’s time to break down that racial barrier by recruiting an African American player onto his team (though he admits it’s as much a financial decision as it is a social statement). After an extensive search, Rickey settles on a 26-year-old prodigy out of California named Jackie Robinson (Chadwick Boseman).
This Robinson kid soon proves to be quite gifted, as he makes stealing bases look easy, and can hit a home run like it nobody’s business. He clearly has the potential to be a great sports star, there’s just one problem… his skin color. He is the first African American to ever play in the Major Leagues, and given that this is the 40’s, not everyone is a fan. Despite being clearly talented, Robinson encounters, and is forced to deal with, bigotry at pretty much every turn. It’s something that could derail his promising career, especially if he loses his cool in public. So, the question is, will he be able to suck it up, put all the taunts and torments out of mind and just play the game?
As I said a long, long time ago in my review for The Blind Side, I’m not a sports fan. However, I do tend to enjoy sports movies, because they usually have the makings for good drama: a hero, typically an underdog, has to struggle against all odds, in order to achieve an ultimate goal, which in a sports film usually means winning the big game/race/fight, or what have you. That is the formula for most sports films, and it’s the one that 42 follows to the letter.
For Jackie Robinson, the hurdle he had to pass didn’t have to do with the game of baseball, so much as his ability to play the game while contending with small minded racism that seems to come from all directions; from booing crowds (there’s a chilling moment where a young boy starts shouting the N-word at Jackie after listening to his father do it), umpires, players from opposing teams, and even his own teammates.
One of the worst occurrences happens early on; Robinson is playing for the Montreal Royals in Florida, when some shit-kicking hillbilly cop walks up to him after scoring a run, and orders him to get off the field, or else. Another instance, one that personally brought my piss to a boil, is when Robinson steps up to bat in Philadelphia, and is forced to listen to an endless barrage of cruel taunts from Phillies Manager, Ben Chapman (Alan Tudyk, who plays a true dick, and does it a little too well).
At that point, I would’ve had no problem with Robinson going over to the guy and caving his face in with his bat, which he clearly wants to, but of course doesn’t, because good old Rickey taught him better than that. He taught Jackie to turn the other cheek, that the best way to show up his unenlightened naysayers up is by performing on the field. And that Jackie does, by taking the Dodgers all the way to the Pennant… don’t think I’m spoiling anything there, folks.
As an indictment on racism, and showing younger audiences just how bad things really used to be, 42 pushes all the right buttons, hits all the right notes, and works nicely. As a sports drama, and a biopic of one of the most important men to ever play the game of baseball, it just doesn’t quite make the cut. This is mainly because Robinson, as a central character, is woefully underwritten. Boseman is stellar in the role, but aside from a few moments of warmth with his wife, Rachel (Nicole Beharie), and one crucial scene where he has a private emotional breakdown, he comes off as incredibly stoic and cold, to the point where he seems a little off putting.
I know it was a conscious decision for Robinson to behave that way in public, but we never get enough of a peek behind the curtain to get a sense of who he really was, and consequently, I never got as caught up in his story, nor did I care about him, nearly as much as I knew I was supposed to. I lay the blame for this at the feet of writer/director Brian Helgeland (screenwriter of L.A. Confidential and Mystic River), who does a masterful job of recreating the period. The ball parks, the locker rooms, and the back offices all look and feel authentic, it’s just a shame Helgeland decided to treat Robinson as a symbol instead of a character.
Because of that, the majority of the dramatically juicy bits go to the cigar chomping Rickey, who is played by Ford with gravitas and gusto. Unless I’m forgetting something, this is the first time in Ford’s career where he truly inhabits and disappears inside of a character. I didn’t even recognize him when he first appeared on screen, then, after some time, I forgot that I was even watching him. I would go so far as to call his performance Oscar worthy, even if he does overplay his hand at times by hamming it up a little too much. It also seemed a tad silly that he always had some wiser-than-thou speech prepared whenever someone came to him with a problem, but again, that’s Helgeland’s doing.
With 42’s faults aside, it is a solidly entertaining film that tells a remarkable, and important, “true” story (embellishments were made, I’m sure) that deserves to be seen, particularly by young people, who only seem to get their history from the movies these days, anyway (if Scary Movie 5 out performs this at the Box Office, I will lose all hope for humanity). Yes, it could have been better, and perhaps less conventional, but still, it’s uplifting, inspirational, and had me leaving the theater with a smile on my face.
