PG | Rottentomatoes.com Rating:63% | 2005 |
(Brief, mild language) | Picky Flicks Quote: "With winning performances, fancy camerawork and a classic root-for-the-little-guy scenario, Greatest Game tees off with the best of them." -Kit Bowen, Hollywood.com | RUNTIME: 2 hr. 1 min. |
Visit:www.screenit.com for complete details | Movie Mood:  Sporting |
A movie with a title like The Greatest Game Ever Played and an opening caption of, “This is a true story” (as opposed to, “The following is based on true events”) might seem to be setting itself up for failure. And yet, The Greatest Game does quite the opposite, managing to keep this rather golf-averse individual and her two small children both entertained and interested until the last stroke.
The Greatest Game Ever Played is a sadly rare entry into the inspirational film genre: a sports movie that employs good acting, solid story-telling, and genuine emotion to achieve its uplifting climax. In fact, I’ve become so accustomed to the bombastic score layered with slow-motion dunk shots on top of a tear-jerking finale method that The Greatest Game's humility and sweetness struck me as all the more refreshing and surprising.
The story begins in the late 19th century with a trip to the Jersey shores of England, where a young peasant lad is awakened by the approach of several austerely clad gentlemen who just happen to be marking out the territories of a future golf course. The boy doesn’t have a clue what golf is, and, as one mutton-chop adorned fellow informs him, is unlikely ever to have a closer acquaintance with it since it is a game for “gentlemen,” which the lad will most certainly never be.
Fast-forward at least twenty years, and Harry Vardon from Jersey has not just improved his acquaintance with golf but has, in fact, mastered the game, winning numerous trophies and gaining international acclaim. Still, it’s not enough. No matter how good he is, the same type of men who told him he would never be a gentleman when he was ten continue to shut him out of their exclusive clubs for the simple reason that his father is nothing more than a gardener.
A little hop across the pond brings us into the Ouimet home in New England, where young Francis earns meager tips caddying for the local muckety-mucks at the golf club. His father, a hardworking French immigrant, reminds Francis of the importance of a dollar earned. He’s not a mean man, but a lifetime of labor has hardened him to the idea of childish dreams. When Francis sees a notice that the great Harry Vardan will be giving an exhibition in his town, Francis’s father brushes aside his son’s pleas to go, reminding him that he has an obligation to further his education and get a good job so that he can provide for his future family.
Fortunately for Francis, his considerably softer-hearted mother sneaks him to the exhibition where Francis rushes forward as an audience volunteer to the meet his idol, a fateful encounter that foreshadows a much more momentous meeting a decade later.
When a teenaged Francis receives an unexpected opportunity to compete in a tournament, his father balks, insisting that he is nothing more than a trained monkey to his benefactors and that he will never overcome his lowly birth circumstances. They make a wager. If Francis fails to qualify, he will abandon his dream. When he falls short by one stroke, he resigns himself to a life of menial labor and social obscurity.
That is, until the U.S. Open comes to his hometown, and he discovers that Harry Vardon is competing for the first time in years. Despite being out of practice for several years, Francis receives another chance to enter and this time qualifies.
What ensues is a battle to the finish, in which Francis becomes the surprise contender by keeping his head down and sinking shot after improbable shot. He’s a novelty, especially considering that the only caddy he can afford is a feisty, pint-sized ten-year-old who has to dodge the truant officer each day just to get to the tournament. After Francis outperforms much more seasoned pros in round after round, neither the media nor the club snobs can ignore his talents.
The Greatest Game Ever Played does something smart by refusing to make any one character into a villain. In fact, the film’s principal antagonist is the injustice of a class system (in both England and America) that refuses to honor talent regardless of its bloodlines or lack thereof. And this is an adversary that unites rather than divides our two protagonists. Because both Francis and Harry Vardon are such likable men, we suspect but still never know until the very last shot exactly who will triumph. Granted, the film relies on some rather broadly drawn characters to fill “types,” but the principal characters are both detailed and believable and blessed with authentic, even witty, dialogue (there’s a hilarious spin on the cliché, “slept like a baby” that still makes me chuckle every time I think about it).
The Greatest Game is an unusual movie. It sounds like it should be boring but isn’t by a long shot (pun intended) and contains elements which seem almost impossible to be true (and, perhaps, are, as I'm sure that the truth was fudged at least a little) while striking one of the more genuine tones of any sports movie I’ve seen to date. It may not be the million dollar hole-in-one shot, but it’s at least a solid birdie on a tricky course.
Until next Friday, stay picky! Your mind will thank you later.
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