Seabiscuit (2003) & The Story of Seabiscuit (1949)

“The Story of Seabiscuit” (1949) and “Seabiscuit” (2003) raise the question on whether or not it is better to let some time pass before making a movie about an actual historical figure or event. Exploiting the excitement of the moment is irresistible, but we inevitably learn more, and perhaps even feel more, when time matures our perspective.

The historical figure in this case is the champion 20th century thoroughbred Seabiscuit, and the event is the match race with War Admiral, and the Santa Anita Handicap…and the Great Depression.

This is our entry into Page’s Horseathon hosted by My Love of Old Hollywood. Have a look at her blog for the other entries.

This is also the second part of our series on racehorses in the movies, please see Monday’s post on “Secretariat” (2010) and “Casey’s Shadow” (1978).

The two movies on Monday gave us a chance to consider a film made during its era (1970s) and a film made in 2010 about the 1970s. The past, we noted, is always cleaned up a bit, but in our nostalgic look back we see more than we did then, and learn more.

The two movies on Seabiscuit today amplify that sensation. “The Story of Seabiscuit” was made only two years after the death of the thoroughbred and his fame was still fresh. He had been retired since 1940 after pulling himself, and much of America, through the worst of the Great Depression. The world was a different place in 1949, perhaps not ready to look back and see lessons in what had passed only the previous decade. We were still so intent on looking and moving forward. It took another generation to film a passionate tribute to Seabiscuit -- in the early 21st century, when younger filmgoers had never heard his name.

“The Story of Seabiscuit” is a pretty film, pleasant enough, but largely fictional. Shirley Temple stars with Barry Fitzgerald. They are from Ireland, uncle and niece, and come to Paris, Kentucky where Fitzgerald will work as a horse trainer. Fitzgerald discovers a spark of something valuable in the young horse Seabiscuit, which his owners disparage as poor horse. They sell him to Mr. and Mrs. Charles Howard, and Fitzgerald goes along to train him. Lon McCallister plays the jockey -- not Red Pollard. He and Shirley fall in love.

Anyone with an appreciation of horseracing or history will likely fidget under such blatantly false details, but this movie does have at least one redeeming virtue: it shows footage of Seabiscuit.

The soft colors of this film are wiped away when we find ourselves plunked down for the great match race between War Admiral and Seabiscuit. We are shown actual newsreel footage of the exciting race.

We mentioned in Monday’s post about crowd scenes and their efficacy and “reality”. In these old newsreels, we see the actual 1938 crowd, the fans who adored Seabiscuit. You can’t get any more real than that.

But unless one knows the history and the significance of the event, then watching this film may do nothing to stimulate either the imagination or appreciation for the magnitude of the moment.

This is where “Seabiscuit” (2003) shows its brilliance.

Based on the excellent book by Laura Hillenbrand, “Seabiscuit: An American Legend” (NY: Ballantine Books 2002), the film is both written and directed by Gary Ross. Wisely, he ties together scenes in the movie with narration by historian David McCullough, whose voice we may instantly recognize from other documentaries and so bestowing on this film from its opening moments the imprimatur of legitimacy. We are given to understand that this story is important and has value, and that we are capable of understanding it even if we know nothing of horses.

It is a lyrical movie, with four main characters: Seabiscuit, his owner, played by Jeff Bridges; his jockey, played by Tobey Maguire; and his trainer, played by Chris Cooper. All four are losers in life in some way or another. All four have known tragedy and disappointment, pain and sorrow. All four, through their magical partnership, will find redemption and courage, and victory.

We should note that Gary Stevens, who played jockey George Wolff, had his acting debut in this film. He was a real champion jockey, who is now retired from the sport and does commentary for TV.

William H. Macy steals his scenes as the frenetic track announcer with more gimmicks, hyperbole, and sound effects up his sleeve than…could choke a horse.

Along with Mr. McCullough’s voice, we have montages with newspaper headlines, period music, and still photos of life in America in the 1930s. These are effective parody of classic film techniques. If a filmgoer knew nothing of that period, he would come away with a wealth of knowledge, and with a compassion for everything he did not understand.

This is the genius of the film. As we noted in “Secretariat” on Monday, we tend to clean up the past a bit when we make a movie about days gone by. As in the case of “The Story of Seabiscuit” (1949), we sometimes entirely obliterate it. “Seabiscuit” (2003) succeeds I think by acknowledging from the start that its audience may know nothing about the 1930s and have no great feeling for horseracing. The narration, and the time-travel glimpses into the era are like the way a grandfather tells a story to his small grandchildren about what life was like when he was boy.

Grandpa pulls us on his lap and explains that candy cost a penny. He explains that there was no television. We have to understand these things first before he gets into his tale. Now, maybe he embellishes a little bit, but certainly through his telling we can hear and see and smell the details of his story about sneaking into the circus tent (or what have you).

Sometimes the best way to tell a story is to not assume your audience will appreciate it or understand it -- but help them to do so. It doesn’t necessarily talk down to them. If done the right way, it’s just holding their hand.

Handholding can be very comforting.

Other elements in this movie are universal, so we don’t need explanation -- Jeff Bridges’ sorrow at the death of his child. Tobey Maguire’s being haunted that his parents abandoned him in the early years of the Depression because they had too many children to feed. He was the oldest so it was time for him to take care of himself.

The story of Seabiscuit really was quite remarkable. A battered horse, he came to be a champion racer. He beats the best horse of the day. His jockey is injured and can no longer ride. Then the horse is injured, and his racing days are thought to be over. Both jockey and horse help each other to recover. They come back and win one final grand race. It may seem saccharine, but it was true.

I love William H. Macy’s line, “I can take one comeback, but this is ridiculous. Who’s next, Lazarus?”

I especially love the closing shot, where we race to the finish line through the horse’s perspective, and a slow fade, as if the race never really ends.

“Casey’s Shadow” misses the glorious and unabashed sentiment of “Seabiscuit” (2003), and “Secretariat” fails to really take the audience by the hand to appreciate the era of the early 1970s as well as “Seabiscuit” does with the 1930s. “The Story of Seabiscuit” (1949) has really only its archival footage of the great horse to recommend it.

I think younger audiences when they see “Seabiscuit” can appreciate the enormity of that horse’s impact on American popular culture in his day.

I know I can accept it at face value, and not just because of this movie.

I remember the horse Secretariat and the huge thrill we got watching him win each race, one by one, of the Triple Crown. Anyone who recalls that will understand the Depression audiences who hunkered by their radios to listen to Seabiscuit tear down the back stretch.

Largely because of that memory, I’ll be watching the Belmont Stakes next Saturday to see if I’ll Have Another will be the first horse in 34 years to take the Triple Crown.

Please have a look at the other blogs participating in the Horesathon sponsored by My Love of Old Hollywood.