Chariots of Fire (1981) dir. Hugh Hudson
Starring: Ben Cross, Ian Charleson, Nicholas Farrell, Nigel Havers, Sir. John Geilgud, Ian Holm

By Alan Bacchus

A dual story essentially, Ben Cross, as Harold Abrahams, is a dash-runner and a Jew, who at every turn battles the stubborn, racist British class system, as well as his feelings of self-doubt. Eric Liddell (Ian Charleson) also runs the 100-meter dash but is a devout Christian and, compared to Abrahams, Britain's golden boy. This is ripe material for dramatic conflict, but director Hugh Hudson never finds the core that connects these stories.

Colin Welland's script hops and skips through the years leading up to the Games, but with little dramatic gravitas. Abraham's fight for recognition as a Jew in the mostly Anglican Christian Cambridge school mildly exposes Britain's legacy of elitism and class hierarchy, but it never really passes any significant judgment. And Eric Liddell's moral stance about not running on Sunday is admirable but hardly heroic or rousing entertainment.

Hudson, who came from the same background in British commercials as Ridley Scott and Adrian Lyne, creates a handsome production but shows little of the visual inspiration or inventiveness of his contemporaries. Other than his expressionistic use of slow motion, Hudson's imagery carries very little drama or emotional weight.

Even the sports scenes fall flat. None of the main players ― Charleson, Cross, Nigel Havers or Nicholas Farrell ― look like athletes at all. The Vangelis score is still the highlight, a copy of which is included as a CD in the Blu-ray packaging. The electronic synth sounds date the film to the '80s, but it's the best of this unique era in film scores, providing the only memorable counterpoint to the film's otherwise restrained stuffiness.

**

This review first appeared on Exclaim.ca

The Moment of Truth (1965) dir. Francesco Rosi
Starring: Miguel Mateo 'Miguelín', Linda Christian, Pedro Basauri

***½

By Greg Klymkiw

It's probably a "cultural thang", but I just don't get bullfighting. It's a vicious, cruel and morally reprehensible "sport" (if you can even call it that) that involves teasing, torturing, then murdering a bull for the enjoyment of blood-lusting plebes (I include the "elite" here too) in mostly Spanish-speaking countries. Actually, I'll go further - call it ethnocentric or even racist if you will (and I will care less) - but anyone who would engage actively or enjoy watching this odious "art" (if you can even call it that) has got to have something seriously wrong with them. Yes, I'm aware of bullfighting's historical "importance" to Spanish "culture" (if you can even call it that), but why and how this crime against animals can continue in this day and age is beyond me.

And yes, I consider the teasing, torturing and wanton slaughter of animals a crime. Just because it's "cultural" doesn't mean reasonable, thinking people must accept its existence.

There is a long tradition of bullfighting movies; the most well-known being the various versions of Blood and Sand (most notably the silent 1922 Rudolf Valentino version and Rouben Mamoulian's 1941 effort for Fox) and Budd Boetticher's studio butchered and recently restored The Bullfighter and the Lady. The above films are not without merit as films, but none of them can hold a candle to Francesco Rosi's The Moment of Truth.

I hate this movie, BUT The Moment of Truth is important on three fronts. First of all, it's dazzling filmmaking. Secondly, it reflects the society and politics of Spain in the 1960s in ways that also shed light on the macho-blood-lust culture that would so proudly continue to extol the virtues of this heinous activity. Finally, it is an exquisite addition to the canon of the brilliant Italian director Francesco Rosi (Salvatore Giuliano, Hands Over the City, The Mattei Affair, Lucky Luciano) and, in fact, is a perfect melding of his Neo-realist and operatic tendencies (and influences).

The movie does not glorify bullfighting, but rather, it takes a no-holds-barred look at the entire world of the "sport/art" - behind the scenes and in the public spotlight. Rosi's film charts the rise of bullfighter Miguel Mateo 'Miguelín', an aimless young man who desperately seeks a better life and painstakingly learns the bullfighting ropes and rises to the top of the game. In spite of his stardom, he's still a simple country boy at heart and his handlers push him to ever-dangerous heights - exploiting him with absolutely no regard for his well-being. Miguel kills the bulls, but the men of influence kill his spirit and, in so doing, further feed the the centuries-old blood-lust of the "people".

Rosi's mise-en-scène is phenomenal. Attacking the tale with a mixture of classical, yet baroque shots reminiscent of his mentor Luchino Visconti, yet training his eye on the proceedings as a neo-realist storyteller and documentarian, this is a film that clearly springs from the loins of a born filmmaker. Sequences involving the running of bulls through the streets as their hides are pierced with ribbon-adorned harpoons, the dank basement of the bullring where Migeulin is trained by retired bullfighter Pedrucho (Pedro Basauri), the dusty rings themselves - surrounded by hordes of slavering, blood-crazed fans - these images are clearly unforgettable and, most importantly, are the real thing.

When we see fear in Migeulin's eyes as he faces an angry, snorting bull, this is not acting - it's the real thing. No rear-screen projection or opticals a la Blood and Sand are used here. It's real bullfighters, real swords, real gorings and real bulls.

While it is clear that Rosi's intent is to expose the macho myths of this world, I still find it sickening to watch. Even though it's SUPPOSED to be sickening, having to watch it is not unlike what it must be for non-pedophiles to watch real kiddie porn. Filmmakers who must take horrendous things to extremes in order to expose truth (like Kubrick, Pasolini, Scorsese, Friedkin etc.) do so within the realm of recreating violence. In The Moment of Truth, violence, pain and suffering happen for real and Rosi captures it on film with all the power and panache one would expect from a great filmmaker.

For Rosi to tell this story and explore the theme of the violent exploitation of man and beast - for him to break-down the perverse sense of masculinity that infuses the lives of those on both sides of the bullfighting world - he must, like all great artists avoid any sense of morality that will interfere with the horrors he seeks to display.

I understand this, but it doesn't mean I have to like it.

The most upsetting thing is seeing animals being teased painfully with the harpoons and to witness these beasts actually being stuck with swords, to watch - mouth agape - as real blood gushes out of these poor animals and worst of all, to bear witness to these animals having their spinal columns crushed with the cold steel of the torero's sword (and see even more blood gushing out of thee animals) is, frankly, more sickening than watching the re-created scourging and crucifixion of Our Lord in Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ.

In spite of my revulsion, I cannot deny that Rosi is at the top of his game here. This is brave and brilliant filmmaking. However, in order to expose exploitation, Rosi must also exploit his human and animal subjects. It's even more detestable that he focuses his camera so astoundingly and unflinchingly upon the balletic grace with which the bullfighters taunt their quarry and then kill it.

There's no two ways about it.

I admire this film and I respect it.

I also hate it and wish it had never been made.

"The Moment of Truth" is available on an exquisitely mastered Bluray on the Criterion Collection - a widescreen Technicolor print that's a perfect example of a terrible beauty. The release includes a new English subtitle translation, a handsome booklet and an interview with Rosi himself.

Bones Brigade: An Autobiography (2012) dir. Stacy Peralta
Documentary

***

By Alan Bacchus

Just how many documentaries can Stacy Peralta make about skateboarding? Well, there's plenty of material and stories within the sport to tell. This new picture serves as the ideal continuation of Dogtown and Z-Boys, Peralta's personal chronicling of the sport of skateboarding into the ‘80s and his move from athlete to entrepreneur as manager, mentor and sponsor of a new crop of skating kids, including megastar Tony Hawk.

After Peralta's Zephyr teammates split up in the late ‘70s, he was the only one able to monetize his talents and turn skateboarding into a career profession. Along with skateboard designer George Powell, Peralta formed one of the sport's most successful boarding enterprises, Powell-Peralta. After watching the negative effect of success on his friends, Peralta decided to form a new team of unknown but talented skaters from around the country to compete and promote themselves as professional athletes. From this came the Bones Brigade, which encompassed 40 or so members but featured a core group of five skaters that were influential to the sport in their own unique ways.

First, there's Tony Hawk, the Wayne Gretzky of skateboarding, who, because of his success, became intensely disliked by his competitors; Steve Cabellero, the small but talented acrobatic skater; Mike McGill, the inventor of the McTwist manoeuvre; Lance Mountain, the joker of the bunch, who became a celebrity after starring in Powell-Peralta's first skating video; and Rodney Mullan, the freestyle extraordinaire, whose skills with the board on the ground were unrivaled, but a guy who also suffered from the repression of his disapproving parents.

Peralta admirably tones down the cinematic language compared to his flashy technique in Dogtown and uses a more formal, restrained style reflective of his new position as mentor in this phase of his career, as well as his growing maturity as a filmmaker. Each of his interviews is shot in the same location – a well art-directed skateboard workshop with boards filling the frame from top to bottom. Again, the ingrained culture of self-documentation of skaters means there's a wealth of footage and stills to help visualize his story. Stills, video footage and super-8 footage are combined for a fun time capsule of ‘80s aesthetic.

The prevailing theme that emerges here is the sense of family that Peralta infuses in the kids, which manifests itself in their supremely innovative athletic feats. This contrasts sharply with the painful destruction of compatriots in Dogtown.

As in Dogtown, The Bones Brigade treads on self-aggrandizement, as Peralta himself is a key character in this story - he even interviews himself. But this time he adds the subtitle 'An Autobiography', which kind of prevents us from criticizing the film for any bias. But we should look at these films as personal filmmaking at its best, a superbly entertaining diary of sorts, with maximum flare, energy and exuberance in the prevailing art form of our generation. I also doubt that this is the end of the story, as there are two more decades of skateboarding to examine, something I will certainly welcome with open arms.

The Other Dream Team (2012) dir. Marius Markevicius
Documentary

****

By Alan Bacchus

The Other Dream Team is an unbelievably inspiring story of freedom and liberation from repression told through the triumph of the Lithuanian basketball team, which toiled under the Soviet regime before their bronze medal victory as a sovereign nation in the 1992 Olympics.

Sports has always made for great documentaries, the drama inherent in the competition, the visual spectacle of world class athletes, and the wealth of footage and coverage devoted to sporting events are a gold mine for filmmakers.

The Other Dream Team is no exception. But with the added gravitas of the political upheaval of the Iron Curtain and the deeply emotional human story at its heart, this picture becomes a truly epic and powerful piece of cinema.

Filmmaker Marius Markevicius charts a 50-year odyssey of the small Baltic country of 3 million people from pre-war prosperity to annexation and poverty under the Soviets to their violent revolution in 1991. All the while we learn about the country's mad obsession with basketball, which birthed superstars Sarunas Marciulionis and Arvydas Sabonis. The film charts their success in the Soviet league in the 80's to their courtship by the NBA and all the political and cultural conflicts they encountered.

Interviews with Marciulionis, Sabonis and other players confirm all the preconceived notions of poverty behind the Iron Curtain. But the biggest tragedy is not the absence of bread or blue jeans, but their lack of freedom to express their culture, language and identity as Lithuanians. Even the seasoned journalist Jim Lampley tears up when recounting the pain of these players during this period.

The players’ stories are so rich that Markevicius doesn't even get to the 1992 Olympics until the final act, which feels like a bonus track on a masterpiece album.

The coda to this story comes after the liberation of the country and the fall of Communism. But once we get embroiled in the drama of the Olympics it becomes a film within a film. The involvement of The Grateful Dead in funding the basketball team's trip to the Olympics is zany enough to make up its own documentary. Same with the awesome sight of other marginalized peoples competing under new flags (e.g., South Africa and Estonia). We're also treated to some astonishing footage of the US Dream Team demolishing opponents. But the dramatic climax to the picture comes in the form of a storybook matchup between the former Soviet Union and Lithuania, which is so emotional and moving it didn't leave a dry eye in the house.

The Other Dream Team is so powerful it transcends its sport, instead serving as the representation for our instinctual desire for freedom.

Moneyball (2011) dir. Bennett Miller
Starring: Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Robin Wright

***½

By Alan Bacchus

There’s a strong feeling or connection to The Social Network in this film. Sure Aaron Sorkin is a co-writer, and sure it depicts an insider view of the business side of a popular entertainment industry, but thematically Billy Beane and Mark Zuckerberg are like two sides of the same coin. While diametrically opposed in age, looks and charisma, they are both ambitious new millennium businessmen subverting the anachronistic stubbornness of their old world establishments.

For Mark Zuckerberg it was Harvard and the elitist old boys club that eluded him, and for Billy Beane it’s the institution of baseball - America’s past time and its long standing traditions of sportsmanship and integrity. What makes baseball such a dynamic sport is the combination of physical precision on the field and the detailed statistical analysis available for almost every aspect of the game, a sport in which the long standing consistency of the game means players across eras are comparable more than in any other sport.

In Moneyball Brad Pitt depicts the situation of real-life Oakland A’s General Manager Billy Beane, who in 2002 finds himself up against this tradition due to an inadequate salary budget causing him to lose his three best players to other richer teams. Beane changes history by looking outside of the box to a new school of baseball analysts, who, through the analysis of statistics, find undervalued players and thus maximizing their winning potential. Michael Lewis’s non-fiction novel, which served as the basis for the film, was indeed a baseball nerd story. But under the pen of Steve Zaillian and Mr. Sorkin, the direction of Bennett Miller and the overall production guidance of producer Brad Pitt, Moneyball is a thoroughly entertaining combination of sports movie-dramatics, underdog melodrama and a tender father-daughter drama.

Beane’s relationship with Yale economics grad, Peter Brand (Hill), who becomes Beane’s statistics guru and brains behind the new regime, results in most of the comedy. The appearance of the pudgy, unathletic baseball nerd entering an ego-fuelled world of sports and its ubermen plays for fun comedy. Otherwise, Beane’s journey is filled with conflict at every corner. Philip Seymour Hoffman’s performance as the old school Art Howe, who refuses to be taught new tricks is spot on. Same with the stodgy old baseball scouts who judge a player on looks, 'feelings' and other non-statistical criteria. It perhaps dumbs down the contribution of this old guard but serves the picture well.

Brad Pitt single-handedly holds down this picture arguably better than any film he's ever been. His handsome conservative look and affable and easy-going personality lead to maximum leading man charm. It's the type of charm that can go overlooked critically but is essential to the success of a film.

While the baseball story succeeds handsomely, there's also a number of missed opportunities. Other than Pitt and his daughter, his relationships with the other characters provides insufficient drama and closure. Peter Brand in particular is sorely underdeveloped as a character. Same with Beane's tempestuous relationship with Art Howe, which is left hanging and not reconciled.

That said, the whole is greater than the sum of the parts in this case. It's a lengthy running time, which never drags, leaving us with good wholesome feelings of satisfaction and inspiration at the end.

Senna (2011) dir. Asif Kapadia
Documentary

***½

By Alan Bacchus

Senna continues a recent trend towards giving real-life stories in sports the treatment of a feature documentary. With the recent HBO Sports docs playing at festivals and on pay cable, and the great ESPN 30 for 30 series, people have finally started to realize that looking back at sports with a journalistic and artistic eye will produce cinematic experiences far and above what can be done with good old-fashioned fiction.

Why reinvent the wheel when sports by their very nature feature dramatic characters going through immense physical and emotional stress that pushes their bodies to the limit, often putting themselves in danger? Add to that the fact that all of these great dramatic moments have already been captured on film/video.

Senna, as a documentary feature, is no exception. Asif Kapadia’s film brings us back to arguably some of the most exciting years of Formula One racing between 1984-1994. These were the years of Alain Prost and Ayrton Senna, one of the great rivalries in the history of sports featuring two personalities in the big money, high stakes arena of Formula One. Senna chronicles this decade-long journey of the humble Brazilian’s rise to become the best driver in the world, one of the best ever, pushed by his teammate and fierce competitor, Frenchman Alain Prost, to create a sympathetic and deeply tragic study of a man fighting battles on and off the racetrack toward a tragic destiny. Senna is a deeply moving and emotionally affecting character study.

Kapadia is surprisingly lean with his information, certainly not wasting time getting into things. With as little time as possible dwelling on Senna’s childhood or upbringing, we're almost immediately thrown into his rookie season in Formula One – off to the races if you will.

The stylistic hook at play here is the exclusive use of stock footage through which Kapadia tells his story. The footage is fantastic. Even the lesser quality ‘80s and ‘90s video, which threatens to subvert the big screen polish of the film, is given a clever filter treatment that translates to a nostalgic feel for the era.

What this means is that we never see the interviewed colleagues and journalists we hear providing the commentary. We also never see any of Senna’s private life. Like the tunnel vision of a racer on the track, Kapadia lasers in confidently on Senna’s racing career from the media’s point of view. It’s an admirable self-imposed challenge, but we also miss out on the reactions of, say, his dear friend and F1 doctor Sid Watkins reacting to Kapadia’s questions. Same with Alain Prost – other than the media interviews at the time, we don’t ever hear from him until the end of the film.

The lingering effect of the film, though, is the remarkable face of Senna. The cameras capture through Senna’s eyes enormous humility, grace and honour. After spending an hour-and-a-half watching him in competition, with his family and simply reacting to the cacophony of media attention on him, even though we know he dies, it’s a truly heartbreaking moment.

Though I rarely advise learning about a subject before watching a film, knowing how and when Senna dies at the end of the movie adds a level of intensity and tragic destiny to the experience. Every moment of jubilation is tempered by the sad knowledge of Senna’s ultimate fate.

The moments just before Senna’s death on that day in San Marino will rip your heart out. Kapadia holds dramatically on an on-board camera shot from Senna’s car, a frequently used camera angle in this film that creates a unique kind of personal intensity we don’t get from a regular Formula One broadcast. The sheer length of time for which Kapadia holds the shot sets us up for what we all know was coming as soon as we started watching the film.

Leaving the theatre, the tragedy lingered in my mind longer than most other film experiences, even some of the best movies I’ve ever seen. Thus, Senna triumphs as a legacy for the great racer and as a sports documentary in general.

Grand Prix (1966) dir. John Frankenheimer
Starring: James Garner, Toshiro Mifune, Eva Marie Saint, Brian Bedford, Antonio Sabato

**

By Alan Bacchus

Grand Prix is an incredibly thrilling, unbelievably real dramatization of what it’s like to be in a real Formula One race, a film so authentic, a 15-minute reel compiled by director John Frankenheimer managed to convince the finicky owner of Ferrari to lend him all the rights to his team name, logo and even manufacturing facility. Impressive, but the film is also boring as hell and damned near unwatchable. Why such contradictory feelings?

The fact is car racing as fictionalized, dramatic entertainment just isn’t exciting. Secondly, whenever the cameras are not covering the races, it’s dull as dishwater. The characters, conflicts and relationships sag like soggy bellbottoms, inert and immobile like airless Goodyear tires.

Technically, it’s a monumental achievement. It was made in 1966, shot on the Super Panavision system in 70 mm and presented in CINERAMA! For strict authenticity, Frankenheimer had his actors driving real race cars on the same track used by Formula One racers and in some cases driving in an actual race. The bulky 70 mm cameras were strapped to the cars for the rugged, intense feelings of being inside an actual car. Helicopter shots cover the race with awesome epic feeling. What does this translate to? Some of the most spectacular imagery ever shot for a dramatic film. Watching Frankenheimer’s wide-angle lens in the pristine 70 mm format up close on James Garner’s face travelling at high speed around the track is stupendous.

This film, now in the height of race season, is available on pristine Blu-ray. It looks great, but by golly, how it must have looked in Cinerama! I will probably never get to experience this, and so without this medium of spectacle much of the film is lost on the small screen.

The actual narrative mostly serves as a coat hanger for the racing. Four racers, James Garner as the American, Yves Montand as the Frenchman, Toshiro Mifune as the Japanese and Brian Bedford as the Brit compete in a Formula One season. Some interpersonal relationships and sexual encounters add some mild spice to the mix, but clearly the film is built to show cars going fast.

Racing today uses the same camera angles as Frankenheimer did, and so with today's eyes Grand Prix is like watching a regular Formula One race. So what's so special about that? With historical context in place, audiences never ever saw the camera angles. It was a new world opened up and a highly dramatic effect we can't discount. But because of my young age, I can only guess at this. Either way, it's very difficult to truly appreciate the spectacle in the present.

So for gearheads and Formula One fans, this might be the last word on racing on film, and thus a worthy Blu-ray pick-up. But it’ll be a struggle through each and every minute off the track. Feel free to fast forward.

Grand Prix is available on Blu-ray from Warner Home Entertainment.

Le Mans (1971) dir. Lee H. Katzin
Starring: Steve McQueen, Elga Anderson, Siegfried Rauch, Ronald Leigh-Hunt

**

By Alan Bacchus

It’s hard to say where this film ranks in the history of car racing movies. The fact is, no one’s really been able to crack this genre, specifically the two other films from the same era, John Frankenheimer’s Grand Prix and Winning starring Paul Newman.

Le Mans is the third of this late 60s/early 70s racing trilogy of sorts. There’s a strict adherence to racing realism in this picture, purposely eschewing any semblance of a story for a distinct vérité documentary-like feel. The first 30 minutes of the film is one long preparation scene, building up to the start of the Le Mans race. There’s almost no dialogue, save for the announcer telling the crowd, and thus the audience, the rules of Le Mans. It’s actually a very clever way to dance around the necessary exposition of the film, but the drawn out excessiveness of this opening is just too much to bear.

The only story going on is told in the opening pre-credit sequence. We learn of Michael Delaney (McQueen), an American driver psychologically burdened by the death of his Italian rival, Piero Belgetti, and the mysterious attachment to Belgetti’s girlfriend. In the present, the entire film is about the race and the race only. The reverence for the psychology of the racers and creating an existential mythologization of their lifestyle is clearly brought across on screen. The racers are treated like Roman gladiators, pandered to by beautiful women and looked after by their slave-like female servants before venturing into their respective arenas of danger and death. Unfortunately, the drama of the race notwithstanding, without inter-character conflict, the movie falls flat.

There are two reasons why we should care about Le Mans. The first is Steve McQueen, the iconic actor and racing fan whose passion project this was. His crow’s feet eyes, messy blond hair, striking blue eyes and general elusiveness are Hollywood superstar-personified. Unfortunately, he can’t get by solely on his handsomeness, as Katzin’s staid tone results in lifelessness in his character. And the European actors playing his fellow drivers also suffer the same fate.

The other point of relevance is the race scenes, which are shot with porno-like allure for the vehicles. For strict authenticity, real cars and real locations were used during a real Le Mans race. The cameras rigged to the actual cars accentuate the feeling of speed these drivers experience. But John Frankenheimer also did this (and better) in Grand Prix.

Cinema nostalgics of the 60s and 70s will get a kick out of the frolicking and bouncy score, as well as the equally funky crash-camera zooms, off-kilter sharp editing and grainy film stock. But ultimately, Le Mans is for McQueen aficionados and Euro-racing gear heads.

Le Mans is available on Blu-ray from Paramount Pictures Home Entertainment.

Last Play at Shea (2010) dir. Paul Crowder, Jon Small
Documentary

***½

By Alan Bacchus

It was such a surprise to see how terrific this film is. It’s a straight-to-video release presumably timed to coincide with baseball spring training fever, which has just begun. With this clever and surprisingly insightful documentary, we get to experience the significant pop culture events that surrounded the famed (and infamous) Shea Stadium in Queens, New York—home of The New York Mets.

In 2010, the stadium was demolished to make way for a brand-spanking new facility, a dramatic leap in comfort compared to aging old Shea. After the final baseball game, fans were treated to a farewell concert from Billy Joel, a Long Islander, whose career seemed to mirror that of Shea itself. Directors Crowder and Small cleverly intercut footage from Joel’s concert with the history of the revered facility, and as a surprisingly profound bonus, the career of Joel himself, which seems inextricably linked to Shea.

Filling in the gaps is narrator Alec Baldwin (yep, another Long Islander). His smooth voice is the perfect choice to give us the omniscient historical information about the Stadium and its relationship to the city of New York.

I have no connection to New York, but I am a sports fan and at one time I was a die-hard baseball fan. And so when Crowder and Small relive the key events of Shea, we get to experience some of the most dramatic moments in baseball history again. There are those first few years when the team was the worst in baseball history, losing 100+ games five years straight. Then they miraculously won the pennant and the World Series in 1969 with some supernatural help from a random black cat that ran onto the field and in front of the rival Dodgers’ dugout. There’s also the glorious 80s featuring that great team of Darryl Strawberry, Dwight Gooden, Gary Carter, et al, and that dramatic victory over Bill Buckner and the Red Sox. If the film stopped there, we’d have a great sports documentary worthy of HBO’s sports series or ESPN’s 30 for 30 series.

Equal to the baseball dramatics is Shea’s significance as a concert hall and the site of that legendary Beatles performance in 1964, which signalled both the birth of Beatlemania in the United States and the introduction of the stadium to the world. Outside of the U.S., Shea became synonymous with The Beatles and was thus in demand by the biggest bands in the world for their concerts. Footage of The Beatles, The Police, and of course Joel himself is thrilling to watch.

Again, if the film ended here, Crowder and Small would have had a terrific documentary on their hands. The third through line involves the storied career of Billy Joel himself, from his humble beginnings in a hard rock band to his management troubles, his hiatus and his reinvention as a solo artist. Crowder and Small don't settle for periphery information or B-plots to cut away to, they dig deep into Joel’s personal life, including the career victories and setbacks that make up this fascinating artist. It doesn’t hurt to have Christie Brinkley’s full participation. Egads, even in her 50s she’s still a stunning beauty. And thankfully for Joel, she’s still on good terms with him and a key person in his life.

Tying everything together is the presence of Paul McCartney, who makes an appearance at Billy Joel’s concert. It’s dramatized to maximum effect, as his appearance brings the past full circle to the present. It’s a shame this film was not included in the A-list film festivals (it premed at Tribeca, which is pretty good actually) and that it didn’t even have a theatrical release, where it could have received its due publicity. Now, it will sadly be relegated to a one-sentence inclusion in the DVD releases columns in your urban weekly. So all you fans of sports and music, please seek out this film.

The Last Play at Shea is available on DVD from Alliance Films in Canada.

Bobby Fischer Against the World (2011) dir. Liz Garbus
Documentary

***1/2

By Alan Bacchus

We all know the story of Bobby Fischer, who, at the height of his career, was the one of the most famous people in the world - for playing chess. This new HBO feature doc, examines the man's complicated life from his well publicized early years as a wunderkind all the way to his famous reclusion and sad psychological breakdown. In between director Liz Garbus chronicles in the riveting day-by-day details of the 'Match of the Century' with Boris Spassky for the World Championship. It’s a familiar story well told, a fascinating story of sport, pop culture, politics, and most importantly, the rare phenomenon of genius.

To devote one’s entire life to such a complex and brain taxing endeavour such as chess requires another level of dedication more than mere strength training or endurance. And to do it at the World Championship level history has shown requires a dedication of one's mind at the sacrifice of conventional social abilities.

This is what happened to Bobby Fischer who, as the youngest American chess champion ever, was in the public eye before he turned 16. Most children aren't prepared for this let alone a damaged psychological mind such as Fischer's.

Fischer's malaise and erratic behaviour comes up prominently in the lead up to the 1972 Grandmaster Championship - an event more than just for the sport of chess, but a Cold War battle of democracy vs. communism.

The public awareness of chess in the United States during those few months in 1972 is astonishing. A sport completely off the radar for 99.9% of the population was suddenly the most watched event that summer and fall of 1972. With well-chosen pop music tracks, Garbus magnificently captures the flavour, feeling and excitement of those times.

The one frustrating element missing from the picture is our ability to see Spassky and Fischer together playing the match. In the first game well placed film and TV cameras captured every dramatic moment of the match, especially the nail biting intensity of Fischer's face and body posture. But of course, part of the drama of the match was Fischer’s demand for cameras to be removed from the room, a request conceded by Spassky. As such we never get to see the rest of the match, only recreations from other chess masters discussing the strategies after the fact.

After the match Garbus documents the gradual destruction of his mind due to his severe anxiety afflictions - a psychosis which rendered him almost completely anti-social, and ironically anti-semetic and anti-American. After Fischer's 1990 ressurection the public finally got to see the broken-down state of the man, a shadow of his former self, both as a chess player and a human being - a sad, sombre but effective ending to a high energy documentary.

With maximum production value, for the 90 minute running time of the film Liz Garbus rekindles the same kind of collective interest in chess as we saw in 1972.

Raging Bull (1980) dir. Martin Scoresese
Starring: Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci, Cathy Moriarty, Frank Vincent,

****

By Alan Bacchus

I won’t pretend that Raging Bull is my favourite film, not even my favourite Martin Scorsese film, not the Best film of the decade as some critics proclaimed, and not even the best film of its particularly year (anyone seen David Lynch’s Elephant Man lately?). My slight hesitation is caused by Robert de Niro's thoroughly unlikeable yet effective portrayal as Jake La Motta as a beast with mood swings as scary as any horror film. But that's where my critique ends, the rest is unbridled penance for Martin Scorsese's masterpiece.

Raging Bull is a tough film, emotionally draining yet cinematically and stylistically exhilarating. It was a project started by Robert De Niro, and pitched to Martin Scorsese to direct and Robert Chartoff/Irwin Winkler to producer. As it’s man character, Jake La Motta, a middleweight from the 1940’s, nicknamed the Bronx Bull for his tenacity and brutish style of fighting. Sadly there wasn’t much dividing the ring from his personal life. In Scorsese’s unglamorous streetwise fashion he depicts the abusive relationships, briefly with his first wife whom he divorced after shamelessly courting the local 15 year old neighbourhood girl, and then this same girl Vickie who eventually became his wife.

Vicki's relationship is characterized as the caveman-cavegirl type, one of physical and emotional dominance and submission. As a character study La Motta is both horrific and fascinating. De Niro depicts La Motta as a bi-polar psychopath living in his own world, twisted and grotesque. Perhaps he’s a product of his environment though, as Scorsese is clear to depict this type of aggression everywhere, visible in the streets and clubs and audible through the open windows of the tenement apartments.

The violence and depraved behaviour of La Motta goes to such extremes at times it switches to humour. Scorsese’s treatment of this is razor sharp, constantly walking a delicate line between devastating emotional abuse and jet black dark comedy. La Motta’s obscenely violent mood swings, for instance. In his fight with his first wife the argument starts with an overcooked steak and proceeds toward physical violence. After the harrowing scene La Motta calls ‘a truce’, a throwaway word used when distracted by his brother Joey. And later in that scene La Motta is depicted talking quietly and with sincerity with his brother.

The relationship with Joey is the key relationship in the film however, two brothers so closely tied together, yet something which La Motta destroys after accusing him of sleeping with his wife. This moment represents the last straw in his psychological deterioration. The arc in this relationship is closed in the devastating finale when La Motta, years after that heated argument, approaches Joey on the street and physically embraces him with pure love.

Stylistically the film is still deservedly celebrated for its expressionistic fight sequences. Scorsese is clear not to shoot La Motta’s fights as realistic but what it may have looked and sounded like from La Motta’s skewed point of view.

This was 1980 and here he just about perfected his cinema language, both inside and outside the ring. His slow motion shots used in key moments of focus from La Motta's point of view; his overlapping sound tails which bridge and connect scenes, tails longer than most other films, long enough for us to notice and thus pay attention to; the amplified ambient sounds of the street which put the environment as close to the fore as the actions of the characters; Thelma Schoonmaker’s superlative editing; and of course Scorsese’s pitch perfect use of music, in particular La Cavalleria Rusticana which contrasts the hard edged visuals with graceful melancholy.

The dichotomy of beauty and beast exists in every frame of Raging Bull.

Raging Bull is available on Blu-Ray from 20th Century Fox/MGM Home Entertainment

Secretariat (2010) dir. Randall Wallace
Starring: Diane Lane, John Malkovich, Dylan Walsh, Dylan Baker, James Cromwell, Kevin Connolly

***

By Alan Bacchus

Secretariat is a handsome and classy sport drama from Disney, surprisingly intelligent and detailed about the sport. Mostly free of the schmaltzy sappiness of some of their other efforts of the past 10 years, like Remember the Titans, but missing the dramatic tension and urgency of say, Seabiscuit.

Penny Chenery (Diane Lane) is just a regular housewife in the 60’s, but part of a horse breeding family. After the death of her mother, and the dementia of her father Penny becomes inspired to grab hold the family legacy, save the ranch and her horses from being sold and rebuild a new breeding empire on the back of the legendary Secretariat.

He’s probably the most famous horse in the history of horseracing - at least in the past 50 years. Famous for then being the first triple crown in 25 years and simply demolishing the competition by 31 lengths to win the crown in it's final Belmont Stakes in 1973. Weaved into this traditional sports genre is a astute business story, the economics of the breeding business and Penny's long game strategy to win. I like films where I can actually learn something I never knew before and coming out of Secretariat has given me a new appreciation for breeding and thoroughbred racing.

Randall Wallace, primarily known as a screenwriter (Braveheart) but working with another scribe here, hits all the expected narrative beats. Like when Secretariat wins Horse of the Year, a jubilee moment for Penny, but by the rules of Syd Field, and others we know a dramatic ball will drop shortly. Indeed not one minute later does Penny find out her father has suffered a stroke. What doesn't work unfortunately is the b-plotting with Penny’s liberal daughters living it up as flower children in the 60’s.

There's a strong performance from Diane Lane, despite her obvious wig. John Malkovich is fantastic as always as the stubborn but confident trainer Lucien. He supposed to be a French Canadian and thank God he plays his accent straight American. Fine character actors such as Dylan Baker round out the other characters adequately.

Wallace must have had a difficult creative choice to make as to how to film the racing sequences. We can't help compare to Gary Ross's hyper-stylized treatment of the racing scenes in Seabiscuit. John Schartzman’s photography in Gary Ross’s film is still the last word in this regard, as Wallace’s races scenes are only serviceable, employing a handheld point of view style likely subject to the film’s significant budget differential to Ross’ bigger and grander film.

Secretariat just doesn’t resonate thematically. The lack of a strong metaphor, whether it’s socio-political as in the relationship of Seabiscuit to the Great Depression, or the connection of the horse to the emotional arc of it’s main character. As such Secretariat, the film, loses out to Seabiscuit by a length or two, but it still makes for an entertaining race.

Secretariat is available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Disney Studios Home Entertainment

The Tenth Inning (2010) dir. Ken Burns and Lynn Novick
Documentary

***1/2

By Alan Bacchus

It’s the baseball playoffs and what a pleasure it was to see former Blue Jay Roy Halladay, the nicest guy in Baseball, throw a no-hitter in his first playoff game. Timed well with this so very exciting time of the season is Ken Burns’ followup to his 1994 documentary series simply titled Baseball.

While that original series was comprehensive, nostalgic and even moving at times, it had the same esoteric tone as his gigantic and also rather longish and... shhh, boring, Civil War series. But for baseball fans like me who were alive and lived through the era of baseball from 1992-2009, this addendum is anything but ‘boring’. It’s the ideal recap of events, issues, heroes and villains of this very dramatic era in America’s National Pastime.

This four hour series is split into two parts, the Top of the Tenth, representing years 1992 – 1999, and the Bottom of the Tenth covering 2000-2009. As one would expect Burns/Novick cover steroids, the strike, the dramatic McGwire/Sosa home run battle of 1998, Bonds’ race for Hank Aaron, the proliferation of Latin and Japanese players in the league and steroids, steroids, steroids and all the drama of actual games and series in between.

But why even discuss Baseball with such analytical attention? Well, it’s not known as the National Past time for nothing. As explained by the journalists interviewed early on in the documentary, there is (or was) a purity to the sport which has remained remarkably constant over its 100 year history. Despite advancements in technology, the game has stayed the same over this period. The rules have barely changed, equipment barely changed, and as such the statistics which drive the study of this game have stayed the same. Therefore players and teams are actually comparable over time, which means whenever a player steps up to the plate he’s instantly etched into a historical context which is always being referenced.

The major issue which threatens this sanctity is covered in a number of chapters of this documentary - steroids. From the McGwire/Sosa race, to Bonds, to the strike and the congressional hearing on doping, steroids is the defining issue of this era.

Burns/Novick are very smart though to look at both sides to every issue. Particularly with steroids, and he opens up the discussion by going back into the past to describe the long history of ‘cheating’ in baseball. Whether it’s the pervasive gambling problems at the beginning of the century to Gaylord Perry’s legendary spitball, Burns succinctly points out that cheating is not new and that there's even some admiration associated with bending the rules.

The filmmakers also smart to limit the amount of TV stock footage to dramatize the stories. Burns still uses photos, zoomed and panned using his ‘Ken Burns’ effect’, to visualize his anecdotes, thus linking it with the aesthetic of his original series.

He also limits the number of interviewees to tells his stories, which has its pros and cons. On one hand, someone like Bob Costas becomes a character in the film just as much as Mark McGwire or Barry Bonds who aren’t interviewed. Which leads to my biggest complaint, the lack of player representation as interviewees. The only players or coaches we see on camera are Ichiro, Joe Torre and Pedro Martinez. Of course, no one other than journalists comments on the steroid issue. At the very least Jose Canseco would have spoken.

And so it’s a distinct journalistic point of view of the game, which is also consistent to Burns’ tone. That is to have it fit in with his themes of Americana, it’s place in American history as a whole and the culture of recreation, sport and entertainment in America.

The Tenth Inning is available on Blu-Ray from Paramount Pictures Home Entertainment.

Jews and Baseball - An American Love Story (2010) dir. Peter Miller
Narrated by Dustin Hoffman

***

By Greg Klymkiw

Based solely on the title I was so excited to see Jews and Baseball - An American Love Story even though I have never been - in any way, shape or form - an avid sports fan. In spite of this, there are certain sports I love. Sounds dichotomous? Well, if truth be told, it's the WORLD of certain sports that continue to have such a nostalgic hold on me and in the right context - usually a historical one - I get giddy over the very IDEA of sports pictures (fiction or documentary) that focus on certain aspects of atmosphere and theme. Baseball is one such sport, and the thesis implied in the title of this new documentary was immediately tantalizing.

I assumed the picture would touch upon Hank Greenberg who sat out the pennant race in 1934 to observe Yom Kippur, but since there already exists a truly great documentary, Aviva Kempner's The Life and Times of Hank Greenberg what I was really looking forward to was a fun grocery list of great Jews in baseball (from players to management to owners), references to all the great Jewish American writers who wrote so eloquently about baseball - my favourites baseball books penned by those of the Hebraic persuasion being Bernard Malamud's The Natural and Paul Auster's tremendous piece of detective pulp Squeeze Play (under the pseudonym Paul Benjamin) and most importantly, I predicted (wrongly and perhaps unfairly) that we'd be getting a cinematic baseball equivalent to Simcha Jacobovici's documentary rendering of Neal Gabler's Hollywoodism which explored how Jewish immigrants not only invented Hollywood, but through the medium of film, created the American Dream itself.

Here's the deal: We get the grocery list.

Can grocery lists be entertaining? Well, when it comes to the list director Peter Miller and his writer Ira Berkow provide, it's not without merit - the picture in this respect feels exhaustive and many of the subjects are definitely worth knowing about.

Is the movie boring? Never. It delivers up all the Jews in baseball we're ever likely to see assembled under one roof and the film is proficiently made in the eminently user-friendly and compelling way episodes of A&E Biography and other "informational" TV docs are.

Is it unique?

Special?

Ground-breaking?

Not especially.

It accomplishes four things very well.

First of all. Miller gives us a sense of what baseball WAS in terms of its romance as a sport, but most importantly, as a unique, magical, romantic world unto itself. This is, frankly, the one aspect of the film that feels personal and moves it a few notches above a typical TV-styled "informational" documentary. The film delivers an experience that explains WHY we all used to love baseball - it was never just the sport, it was the atmosphere: the whiff of hot dogs (mostly, if I'm correct - NOT Kosher nor, at the very least, all-beef), salted peanuts in the shell, the grass that inspired Joe to go shoeless and all those players of every shape and size dotting the fields like cows chewing their cuds but with dazzling bursts of action to rival those jack-hammered upon us by the Jerry Bruckheimers of the world.

Miller yields the magical bedrock upon which baseball rests itself upon and for that, I was truly delighted.

Secondly, while I'm not a sports nut, I understand - as a movie-nut - where this breed comes from. The thing itself is everything, but NOTHING without the minutiae and Miller delivers minutiae in spades. God bless him for this. So will sports fans.

Thirdly, all of the above is narrated by Dustin Hoffman - a great actor with a truly distinctive voice that is absolute perfection for the matter at hand.

Finally, though, what the movie does especially well, is inspire us to think about the much better movie it could have been - a movie that still needs to be made. And yes, this is seemingly unfair, but even the film's title conjures up something so much more interesting and potentially provocative than it delivers upon. Yes, we get (to coin the old MGM adage) more Jews who love baseball than all the Jews in Baseball Heaven, but other than the decent Hank Greenberg profile (a nice encapsulation by Miller that was, alas, already done much better in the aforementioned Kempner documentary), the big question we're left with by the end is: How is this film a UNIQUE "American Love Story"?

Okay, with Hollywoodism, Jacobovici and Gabler were blessed with the clear and irrefutable and (at the time) not-fully-explored notion that Hollywood was invented by Jews who used cinema as an instrument to perpetuate the dreams of all those who fled their shtetls at the end of Russian Cossacks' sabres to seek a new life. The American Dream as created by Hollywood was, without question, an invention of the Jews - one that touched all Americans, even, I might add, boneheaded racists.

Baseball, on the other hand and as played in America was purely Goyische in its invention. Beyond the Greenberg section and the grocery list, I wanted more. I wanted an exploration of Jewish culture strictly with the domain of baseball. What is it to be a Jew in a sport dominated by Anti-Semitic Goyim? What was it like then? What is it like now? What is the history of Anti-Semitism in American baseball? What is it about baseball that causes a Jew to stay within such an Anti-Semitic environment (and let's also not forget, an anti-Black environment also)? Answers to these questions are not answered in any conclusive or compelling way.

And anti-Semitism aside - what is it about Jewish culture that created such a plethora of great ball players? How does a Jew love baseball? Why does a Jew love baseball? What is inherent in the Jewish culture that inspires this love?

On one hand, an answer to such questions might best be found in Shylock's speech where he asks: "If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, do we not revenge?" And furthermore, to paraphrase: "Hath not a Jew the same love of baseball as a Christian?" Well, uh... yes, but the movie itself is called Jews and Baseball - An American Love Story and as such, there's the implication that we're going to get a deeper cultural exploration than the film delivers.

And how about all the Jewish writers, filmmakers, actors and artists who extolled the virtues and values of baseball through their creative work? How about all the Jewish academics and critics who wrote about this creative work? Why don't we hear more from these quarters?

All good questions, I think, and definitely worth exploring in much greater detail than Miller's documentary allows.

Until then, however, Miller's picture will do.

It's unquestionably entertaining, but you, like I, might want something more.

Something that breaks ground - kinda like baseball cleats.

Jews and Baseball - An American Love Story is currently in theatrical release.

Love the Beast (2009) dir. Eric Bana
Documentary

**1/2

By Alan Bacchus

Before Eric Bana became famous for either his stand up comedy in Australia or his film work in Hollywood, he was a suburban gear head who loved muscle cars. Well, just one car in particular, his own car, a 1974 Ford XB Falcon Hardtop, the same car that (ahem) Mel Gibson rode in Mad Max. 25 years later, now that he’s famous enough and has the clout to make a personal film and himself and his car, this documentary is birthed.

After establishing the background to Bana’s upbringing in Australia and the source of his love for cars the film moves into the structural coat hanger of the story, that is Bana’s participation in a 5 day rally race through Tasmania. Some decent race footage and some genuine speed demon thrills make this section of the film watchable. But the repetitiveness of the message smells just like burning rubber.

Helping to analyze or support Bana is fellow car freak Jay Leno, some British TV personality named Jeremy Clarkson and Dr. Phil McGraw. Dr. Phil makes some thoughtful analysis of Bana’s obsessions, but Jay Leno makes only one joke in the film, otherwise staying as straight-faced as his post Conan debacle interview on Oprah, once again proving that he just isn’t funny at all.

Save for a brief scene on the red carpet premiere of his film ‘Lucky Numbers’ there’s no inward look at Bana’s celebrity and the effect of his career on his obsession with cars. It’s a shame, because why else would we care about someone else’s car unless it was a celebrity’s? The problem lies with the fact that Bana himself is the producer and director and thus unable to provide a true third person perspective on his own life.

Early on one of Bana’s interviewees explains to us how ‘non-car’ people can’t understand why ‘car-people’ can have a genuine relationship to an automobile, which, as non-car person, also explains my thoughts on this film. There isn’t much else going on thematically in Love the Beast that isn’t on the surface or told to us over and over again. Eric loves his car and we should all love it too – not all that fascinating, interesting or thought-provoking unless you’re a gear head like Bana and his mates.

Normally I hate the idea of having a director’s commentary on a documentary, after all, wasn’t the documentary the commentary? But in this case, Bana’s second hand ruminations on the film, the subjects, his cars, his celebrity life greatly enhance the film. Also included on the DVDs are lengthier but forgettable interviews with Bana and Clarkson, as well as a trailer, featuring the awesome Band of Horses song, Is There a Ghost, which unfortunately isn’t featured in the film.

Magic & Bird: A Courtship of Rivals (2010) dir. Ezra Edelman
Documentary

***1/2

By Alan Bacchus

The NBA Finals have begun and with rivals teams Lakers and Celtics vying for the trophy HBO couldn’t have timed the release of their fantastic new sports documentary Magic & Bird: A Courtship of Rivals any better.

In fact, it’s one of two new feature length sports documentaries airing now (including Broad Street Bullies, documenting the Philadelphia Flyers’ great teams of the 1970’s – again GREAT timing). Perhaps its the success of ESPN’s documentary series 30 for 30 series, which featured fine documentaries on Wayne Gretzky and Reggie Miller to name a few, which helped greenlit these film. Either way, it's a welcomed trend.

The inherent conflict involved in sport, the visual spectacle of the action and the emotional drama makes for good cinema plain and simple. And when you show sports with the highest production value and attention to detail through which a feature documentary can give its more than worthy of the cinematic experience.

Magic and Bird is a wonderful film, which captures the intense rivalry between two of Basketball’s best players and pop culture icons. The rivalry couldn’t have been scripted any better. Filmmaker Ezra Edelman goes back and charts the rise of each player from humble working class beginnings to the top of the game in the pros. While the playing styles of each player complimented each other well, it’s personality differences which heightened their rivalry. Interviews with fellow players and coaches reveal Larry Bird as an introverted and severely intense workhorse who rarely showed emotion and never ever showed camaraderie with other teams. Magic, on the hand, was the opposite, a Hollywood celeb, a free spirit, and someone who just wanted to get along with everybody, including Larry Bird.

As history has told us already, the competition between the two started in college when the pair faced off against each other at the NCAA championships, with Magic’s Michigan State coming out on top. Later in the pros, Bird would top Magic for rookie of the year honours and three championship rings and three MVP trophies before Magic equaled his three trophies later in the decade to go with five Championships. And on the court we watch Bird face Magic three times in the finals in the 1980’s.

With all available TV coverage, and the most insider sports personnel to comment, we are brought back into this age with the convenience of a time machine. Edelman broadens the effect of their rivalry beyond the court, showing us how they single handedly revived the sagging NBA TV ratings and even resparked some latent racial tension between black and whites. Having grown up in the 80’s, I can say that none of Edelman’s insights are embellished. He captures the flavour and feeling of that era with 100% accuracy.

Edelman’s even finds common ground in the final act of each of the players, a 'downfall' for both players who both succumbed to the intensity of sport and celebrity. Of course, for Magic his womanizing Hollywood lifestyle led to his contracting HIV and quitting prematurely; and for Bird, his physical, no holds barred play led to a severe back injury and like Magic premature retirement.

The mirror between Bird and Magic and the intensity of sports coalesces into a near perfect portrait of athletes, celebrities and regular people who lead extraordinary lives in the spotlight.

Invictus (2009) dir. Clint Eastwood
Starring: Morgan Freeman, Matt Damon, Tony Kgoroge, Patrick Mofokeng, Adjoa Andoh

****

By Alan Bacchus

I was surprised how affected I was upon second viewing of Invictus. It’s a testament to Clint Eastwood’s skills are director to not complicate a good story. In most of Eastwood films, he seems to aspire to the old adage, ‘a good story well told’. Invictus happens to be a GREAT story well told.

In keeping with Eastwood’s easygoing filmmaking attitude, in Invictus keeps his storytelling his conflicts are simple - the period of turmoil right after Nelson Mandela was freed and subsequently was elected as the President of the country. Though Apartheid was gone, the racial divide was still there due to the ingrained attitudes, and in many cases, hatred, of the other side.

Of all things, the sport of rugby becomes the symbol of this divide. For the whites, it’s an old boys game, a guts and glory game of strength and stamina and cultural pride. For the blacks, it’s the opposite, by the mere fact that the South African rugby team (nicknamed the Springboks) instils so much pride for the whites, the blacks always cheer for them too lose. Ever the astute politician, Mandela finds this contradiction an opportunity and through a new friendship with the Springbok captain François Pienaar (Matt Damon), to bring his country together.

It's inspirational cinema 101 - as my colleague Greg Klymkiw calls it, a 'meat and potatoes' story. But if you were doing a checklist of screenwriting fundamentals, you might find Invictus deficient in some of the 'essentials'. While the overall political conflict of race provides the contextual background, there’s very little intracharacter conflict pushing the story forward, and lack of a traditional 'antagonist'. Certainly this is something screenwriting guru Robert McKee would not approve of and anyone less confident and experienced than Eastwood would likely have shoehorned in another character, a tangible rival for Mandela, to beat. And herein we see the genius of Eastwood who knows when to bend the rules and in this case allow the gravitas of the real life story to surmount any of this kind of superficial conflict.

Eastwood also has the thrilling rugby matches to provide us with more than enough cinematic sports action and dramatic stakes. Eastwood’s attention to detail in directing these stunning matches is miraculous. Using old fashioned techniques and modern computer graphics Eastwood renders his rugby with complete authenticity. If anything, Eastwood might linger over his panoramic shots of the spectacle once too often, but we can easily forgive a moment or two of cinematic immodesty from Mr. Humble.

Morgan Freeman’s performance as Mandela is remarkable and wholly deserving of its acclaim. From the moment we see him appear on screen, walk and talk we believe he is Mandela. There wouldn’t appear to be much to do other than mimic his speech, his walking gate and other specific mannerisms. Freeman gets all these details right, but most importantly he inhabits the internal strength and confidence of the man with great subtlety. Matt Damon is the perfect match for Freeman, bulking up admirably to play a tough rugby player. His accent is on the mark and even his rugby skills look World Cup worthy.

The icing on the top of Invictus and the element which makes the film sore into the upper strata inspirational cinema is Eastwood's music. This time it's his son Kyle and frequent collaborate Michael Stevens doing all the work, but their simple melodies still retains the familiar tone of elegant melancholy of Eastwood’s Million Dollar Baby, or Gran Torino scores. And the native South African choral music harmonizes perfectly with this. And shame on the Academy for not giving a nod to the magnificent final theme song 9000 days which takes us out of the film and into the picture credits.

Though the collective opinion of audiences and critics seemed to be indifference, in time we should come to see Invictus as one of Eastwood’s best films, because it is.

‘Invictus’ is available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Warner Bros Home Video

Freetime Machos (2010) dir. Mika Ronkainen
Documentary

***

By Alan Bacchus

A hapless Finnish Rugby team, affectionately known as "the northern most Rugby team in the world," provides the background and entry point for this very pleasing cinematic take on the fragility of the male ego.

Every domesticated man loses a bit of his mojo when he gets married, finds a girlfriend, has kids or "settles down" in whatever shape or form. For the machos in this film, rugby becomes a way of reclaiming one's machismo in a sport where aggression, strength, stamina and guile are essential skills.

Director Mika Ronkainen presents us with an underachieving, ragtag bunch of wannabes who never seem to succeed, charting their season of failure on the pitch. Off the field, we get to know these guys on the road and in the Finnish sauna as they revert to various forms of base male behaviour and sex talk. Amongst his Bad News Bears are Matti and Mikko, one married, one not, and both quietly jealous of what the other doesn't have. Mikko, the married one, mentors Matti on relationships, and all lessons of life and sex, of which Matti is sadly deficient ― a Dumb and Dumber dynamic with some palpable homoerotic tension, which Ronkainen exploits admirably as deadpan humour.

The British coach, Roger, attracts the most compassion. Despite the Sisyphean task of winning ballgames, his professionalism and determination are inspiring. The back-story of his employment with Nokia, which brought him from the UK to Finland, and now, with organizational cutbacks, threatens his employment, emphasizes with poignancy the overarching theme of the loss of manhood.

And so, like great sports films, Freetime Machos is not about rugby, but the need to reclaim one's confidence and respectability in the face of emasculation, which these men find themselves facing every day.

"Freetime Machos" is playing this week at Toronto's Hot Docs Festival

Rocky Balboa (2007) dir. Sylvester Stallone
Starring: Sylvester Stallone, Burt Young, Antonio Tarver, Geraldine Hughes, Milo Ventimiglia

***

By Alan Bacchus

I managed to miss this one back in 2006. After all, could this film really be any good? Were any of these films made after the 1976 original any good beyond my own nostalgic memories of a child? With these questions in my mind, I didn’t bother to see Rocky 6 – ‘Rocky Balboa’. But having received the full 'Rocky' Blu-Ray set to review, I didn’t have to shill out money to see this one. And so, why not give it a go and close this chapter of cinema history.

This 2006 version of the character has lost most of his wealth he had earned and flaunted in 'Rocky IV', though he’s not the street bum he was in 'Rocky V'. Now he lives in Philly and owns a respectable and profitable restaurant. His two main issues are his son Rocky Jr. who resents his father and his shadow which cannot get out from under, and his late wife Adrienne, who has been two years in the grave.

After an ESPN computerized mock-fight between current heavyweight champion Mason ‘The Line’ Dixon and Rocky causes arguments about who was the better pound-for-pound fighter Rocky induces himself to make a miraculous comeback to face-off with Dixon. Meanwhile Stallone manages to overcome his grief for Adrienne and court another local wallflower, using the same affable awkward charm to find love again.

It’s also virtually impossible to review this film objectively and so, like Stallone's next franchise closer-offer 'Rambo', the mere fact that this film doesn’t royally suck ass is a miracle. The fact that Stallone managed to write and direct another 'Rocky' movie, essentially remaking beat-for-beat the first movie except as an old man, and not making himself look as a fool, both as a director and an actor, is astonishing.

After 10 years in acting purgatory and 21 years since directing his last film ('Rocky IV') 'Rocky Balboa’s a decidedly triumphant effort. Stallone employs an easy-going and relaxed directorial style, with natural performances across the board. Stallone, himself, exercises the same muscles he used in ‘Copland’ portraying new millennium Rocky has a soft-spoken and humble man, but still competitive and determined to achieve his goals.

Stallone admirably updates the milieu of the modern sports scene. His incorporation of ESPN, its commentators and even their cameras and camera set-ups during the climatic boxing match adds a welcomed dose of authenticity which was absent for most of the franchise.

The Rocky movies under Stallone’s directorial watch have always been anchored by their numerous montage scenes. Of course, these scenes have become legendary and sometimes laughable in their repetitive depiction of Rocky’s old school working class training method's to get in shape. But look back at with a creative eye and you’ll find these scenes very precise in composition and editing, and, really, a marvel in rousing cinematic energy.

Stallone’s screenplay which hits all the same beats as his original Oscar-winning film including one fabulous montage scene. Arguably it’s a better film than ‘Rambo’ which fed off the tone of excessive violence of the Rambo sequels as opposed to the tense character-based tension of ‘First Blood’. 'Rocky Balboa' is a legitmate good film