Some movies, the best movies, demand an investment not only of time and attention, but of something more, a unique sort of currency, a shaving planed from the heart--all thin, translucent, and curling like a Christmas ribbon--but still attached at one end. If one dips the end of the heart-shaving into the emotional waters of the movie, it becomes a fleshy conduit connecting the viewer with the characters.
I'm not sure I like that analogy (or whatever it is) above, but I am sure that I liked the movie I saw on Saturday about the inspirational tale of three broken men and a broken horse.
Broken by loss and mistreatment, the three men and the horse rally together to overcome long odds to triumph on the track and in life. Seabiscuit came out in 2003, so I'm not very quick on getting a review out, but I wasn't doing the blog back then. When I saw that it was on, I was't going to watch it. I had seen it a few times before. I knew the story. I knew how it ended. I knew that it was a bit of a long gallop from start to end. I image that you know the story, but, just in case, the nutshell version, rendered as blandly as possible, goes like this: Wealthy family loses everything and dumps boy off with a horse racing man. Old horse trainer gets picked up by rich man who has lost his son and whose wife has left him. A small horse with a promising pedigree is mistreated and lives down to expectations, losing races and becoming a cantankerous mess. Men and horse coalesce to form a winning team--with many obstacles along the way. After establishing a winning record out west, they hound the owner of War Admiral until they get a race. There are more complications, but the little underdog prevails. Finally, additional complications arise. Horse and jockey convalesce together and, as underdogs once again, make a miracle comeback.
The overall story is greater than the sum of the parts, and yet, the parts are fabulous. David McCullough's narration and the short, black and white "era" pieces really add to the the atmosphere and illustrate the larger milieu in which the story takes place. The story of Seabiscuit becomes a fanfare for the common man, the triumph of the every man who has had failures and bad breaks in unremitting succession, but who rises to success, to meaning beyond his status. The story will touch you--if you let it. It's like getting smoke in your eyes, but its in the heart.
As for the actors, it is the best thing I've seen Tobey Maguire do. He makes the beaten, angry jockey-mirroring the horse he rides a credible creation. He gets a few nice Shakespearean quotes. Chris Cooper as the trainer Tom Smith oozes patient understanding, long-suffering, and wisdom with occasional wit. He has a number of great lines like, "It's better to break man's leg than to break his heart." Jeff Bridges slips into the role of the owner Charles Howard to give my favorite performance by the actor.
I think the movie works because the writing is superb, and the acting and directing reflect that. I don't think I've ever read the book of the same name upon which the movie is based, but I will read it if I get the chance.
***
Speaking of superb writing. I had some nice experiences with the first book in the sequel trilogy which follows the Tomahawks and Dragon Fire trilogy. First, let me share a couple reviews from two of the books in the trilogy which came in this week:
About Threading the Rude Eye
Independence Intrigue August 5, 2020
I read this book to my daughters. We loved it. It is a great swashbuckling story of mystery, action and fantasy with a little romance and American revolution thrown in as well. Ready for the continuing saga.
About the second book, Power to Hurt
Page Turner! (Not to be confused with Will Turner) August 8, 2020
Power to Hurt is book two in an excellent series by the author Stanley Wheeler. Wonderful character and story development that makes you anxious for the next page/chapter/book. The author is a master at historical fiction. Highly recommend!
Back to my points about writing experiences this week. Writing is often a revelatory process. The author is supposed to know what's going to happen -- and I usually do. While the process for me involves roughly mapping out the story in advance, and picturing the ending, most of the stuff that happens between beginning and end springs into being during the actual writing rather than during the planning. Until the words hit the page, I merely see through a glass but darkly.
This week I was faced with a decision about what course a character would take; her decision would be critical to the events of two separate story lines, and she could be in only one of them. Which way would she go? I couldn't decide -- until I reread her actions from an earlier chapter that had not been planned, but which created some interesting possibilities. After reading that, I saw that she had already made the decision. I merely had to write it. The characters know what they need to do. I just have to stay out of their way. Likewise, when a villain made another appearance this week, I had planned for his dramatic and surprising entrance, but when I started writing it the Rule of Awesome suddenly reared its grinning face and rocketed the scene from a 5 to a 9 on the awesome surprise scale. I couldn't believe that that hadn't occurred to me when I had first envisioned it, but it hadn't. Only in the very act of hurling words at the page did the obscuring stone fall away to reveal the true nature of the sculpture beneath.*
Also, daughter's favorite scenes from Clamorous Harbingers: A possible drowning, and an unfortunate brush with cannibalism.
*That's how you mix a metaphor, shaken, not stirred.
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