Underdogs
by
Howard Schumann

I like anomalies, the things in life that do not fit, the assumptions that can be overturned. That is why I often root for the underdog in sports and why I am drawn to films like Seabiscuit, a movie about a horse with a fighting spirit that brought three unlikely friends together to pick up the pieces of their lives. Written and directed by Gary Ross and based on a book by Laura Hillenbrand, the film chronicles the career of Seabiscuit, the racehorse who rose from obscurity to capture the hearts of millions of Depression-weary Americans during the 1930s. I didn't go into the theater expecting a great movie and I didn't get one, but I did get what I wanted -- outstanding performances, an involving story, and a moving message about second chances in life.

Charles Howard (Jeff Bridges) is a bicycle shop owner in California who becomes the owner of the largest Buick dealership in the West. A family tragedy and a subsequent divorce, however, leave him without the will to go on. Tom Smith (Chris Cooper) is a laconic ex-cowboy and trainer who has a unique way with horses. The third piece to the puzzle is part-time jockey and prize fighter John "Red" Pollard (Tobey Maguire). As an adolescent, Pollard is cut off from his family in Canada and forced to make his way as a journeyman jockey and boxer. The director explains, “Red lost his family, Howard lost a son and Smith lost his way of life. How do you transcend that kind of pain, overcome the grief?" By the second hour, they have all come together to play out their joint destiny.

Pollard conceals his blindness in one eye to ride a small colt named Seabiscuit, bought in Mexico by Howard with Smith's guidance. The horse is a grandson of the great Man 'O War, but is considered lazy and difficult to manage. Under Smith's training and Pollard's assistance, the horse begins to realize his potential. Seabiscuit goes on to run in the Santa Anita Derby three times as well as competing in a match race with the Triple Crown winner War Admiral, owned by a wealthy eastern aristocrat. This is the race that captured people's imagination and allowed them to root for the democratic choice, the underdog like themselves.

The camerawork makes us feel as if we are part of the action, riding along with the jockeys, listening to the thundering hooves. While Seabiscuit is genuinely crowd-pleasing entertainment and I truly enjoyed it, it falls short of the greatness some critics claim for it. The characters lack dimension and the film takes too many liberties with the facts. For example, Smith had been working with racehorses for many years and Pollard had won 53 races on 300 mounts before Seabiscuit. Also, the film's feel-good messages such as "relief made men feel like men again" sound hollow after numerous repetition. Perhaps the wasteland of contemporary Hollywood cinema has made us grasp onto anything that is a cut above the average, but I feel that it has been over-praised. Still, Seabiscuit does give us something to cheer about and, with outstanding performances from the three leads, and an off-the-wall comic performance by William H. Macy as radio announcer Tick-Tock McGlaughlin, it crosses the finish line far ahead of the other recent Hollywood films.

Directed by Stephen Frears from a screenplay by Steven Knight, Dirty Pretty Things is a socially-conscious thriller that provides a glimpse into the "the people you do not see": the clandestine world of illegal immigrants and the traffickers in organ sales that exploit their desperation for profit. An estimated 15,000 illegal organ transplants have been performed worldwide in recent years, usually involving wealthy Westerners and the Third World's marginalized poor who sell their organs, most often kidneys, to stay alive. The fact that many countries have banned the sale of organs only means it has gone "underground" and is controlled by crime gangs.

The film focuses on Okwe (Chiwetel Ejiofor), an illegal immigrant from Nigeria, drives a cab during the day, hustling passengers at the London airport. At night, he is a desk clerk at a multinational hotel watching all that come and go, having to chew on a medicinal root to stay awake. We find out that Okwe is a former doctor in Nigeria who sneaks medicine to his boss and fellow employees at the Cab Company to treat venereal diseases. When he makes a gruesome discovery while checking an overflowing toilet, he learns the ugly truth about what it takes in London to remain one step ahead of the Immigration police.

Asked to help a Somali in pain after a kidney has been removed, he finds out that the manager at the hotel, Senor Juan, called Sneaky (Sergi Lopez), runs a black market business in organ transplants in exchange for providing false immigration papers. Sneaky defends his practice by saying that everyone benefits: the donor who achieves freedom from harassment, the recipient who is restored to health, and the businessmen who realize their profits. Of course, he does not mention the fact that the operations are often conducted in stealth by untrained doctors, leaving the donor dead or maimed for life.

Okwe has a tentative relationship with Senay (Audrey Tatou), a Turkish refugee who works as a chambermaid at the same hotel in violation of her status. He uses her couch to sleep on, but something dark in his past keeps him from revealing much of himself. When Okwe finds out that Senay is willing to take risks to leave for New York, he must choose between his longing to remain free, his desire to help Senay, and his sense of integrity. Although a too facile ending and some far-fetched characters (a happy hooker and a Zen-spouting pathologist) keep it from achieving greatness, the strength and dignity of the two leads is enough to carry the film and make it a truly gripping experience that also enlightens about a well-hidden subject.

A sense of longing permeates Xiao Wu, a 1997 film by the acclaimed independent Chinese director Jia Zhangke. Set in Jia's home city of Fengyang in Shanxi province, the film presents a series of incidents in the life of petty thief and pickpocket Xiao Wu. It is a compelling portrait of an individual in free-fall and, like other films by the director, shows the corrupting influence of Western values on an entire generation of Chinese. The film is reminiscent of the works of Robert Bresson in its use of non-professional actors, environmental sound, and in its spare cinematography by Yu Lik-Wai.

Xiao Wu (Hong Wei Wang) wanders about aimlessly with lots of money to spend and little to spend it on except call girls at the local karaoke bar. He befriends Mei Mei (Hao Hongjian), and they start to develop a tentative relationship, but his social awkwardness leads to ultimate rejection. Wu's friends have given up the life of crime and don't want to have anything more to do with him. His best friend has just been voted a "model entrepreneur" for his activities in cigarette trafficking, and does not invite Wu to his wedding. He even returns Wu's gift of money because it is "tainted." (A scene between the two old friends discussing the wedding is heartbreaking.)

With no other work to fall back on, Wu is forced to continue his petty crimes, constantly running afoul of the police. In the background, the government has issued an order to round up street criminals. Wu seems bewildered by the fact that his friends do not want to associate with him and he is unable to grasp the meaning of the police crackdown. He grows increasingly alienated and lonely as he loses his friends who go straight, his girl friend Mei Mei who leaves town, and his family who eject him after an argument over a ring.

Jia captures the rhythm and feel of day-to-day life in Fengyang. This is life as it is actually lived, not as a series of dramatic events forced into a narrative structure. His film succeeds not only as social commentary but also as an acutely perceptive realization of the psychology of a self-absorbed individual. One of the most revealing scenes is when Wu stubbornly refuses to sing with Mei Mei at the karaoke bar but instead goes to a bathhouse and, alone and naked, sings a plaintive song to the empty room. After Mei Mei leaves him, things seem to spiral downward for Wu. In a later sequence, he is shown not as a victim or hero, but as an off-screen object to be gazed at and mocked by people in the street. It is a scene of personal tragedy, but in the universality of its compassion, it becomes a spiritual revelation. Xiao Wu is one of the best films of the 90s.

©2003 Howard Schumann
CineScene