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Sam
Raimi's baseball romance "For Love of the Game"
is a likable movie with likable stars, though I'm sure
it's not the film event Universal Pictures is hoping it
will be.
I wonder, what scenes were cut out, what expletives
excised, which angered Kevin Costner to the extent that
he is skipping the talk shows? I'm curious, is all, as I
am almost sure that the movie would need more than a
little doctoring to raise it from its current B-picture
status into the A range.
Costner here plays Billy Chapel, 19-year veteran of the
Detroit Tigers, a 40 year-old pitcher who's surely headed
for the Hall of Fame. Over the opening credits we watch
Billy playing baseball in home movies shot in his
childhood, many featuring his tall father teaching him
the game. (Sound familiar? Think "The
Natural.") We know Billy loves the game, but he
seems to be having problems with the other love of his
life, Jane Aubrey (Kelly Preston), a fashion writer based
in New York City. On the day of the last game of the
season, Billy wakes up with a hangover, only to have to
chase Jane to Central Park and discover she is
London-bound to accept a long-awaited editorial position.
So all throughout the last game of the Tigers' mediocre
season - and perhaps the final game of Billy's career -
he broods on his failed relationship with Jane. Will he
be able to climb out of his late-career doldrums? Will he
and Jane finally alter their long-distance,
oft-interrupted affair?
The format of the game as framing device just does not
work. The pace of the extended flashbacks is just too
slow, and the segments of baseball are just too
predictable. In a way the film sags because of another
clichéd conceit - baseball as life. It's appropriate
that this crucial game is broken up by segments showing
the various facets of the relationship between Billy and
Jane; but so many long breaks punctuating shorter
baseball stints become tiresome.
What the film does nicely is portray a positive role
model in Billy Chapel. Everything this guy does is
exemplary, except some nasty treatment he throws Jane
when his pitching hand is severely injured. Sensitive,
handsome: the perfect catch is what Billy amounts to.
This somewhat trite characterization is actually pleasing
to watch, considering the rotten apples spoiling so many
contemporary stories. And Costner is good in the role.
Well into his forties, he seems in good shape, and the
unshakable subtlety he lends to the role saves many of
the scenes from the flatness caused by the script.
As Jane, Kelly Preston delivers a nice enough
performance, except that she too suffers from Dana
Stevens' screenplay. It's too long for one - the movie
weighs in at two hours and seventeen minutes. Further,
many of the scenes build a fine tone of characterization,
only to fall into flatness because of the ill-fated
attempt to avoid cliché. What happens is the hackneyed
plot points are merely postponed, and events we think
will happen end up taking a longer time to happen. Jane,
for instance, shows ambivalence after sleeping with Billy
on the first date. This ambivalence grows until we doubt
the two will ever reconcile. This delay may indeed result
in dramatic tension, but we are simply teased too many
times to care by the time the climax final nears.
John C. Reilly is good as the confidant - Billy Chapel's
craggy-faced catcher. He has a relationship with Billy
similar to that between Steve Carlton, the Phillies ace,
and his favorite ball-stopper, Tim McCarver, whose career
spanned four decades. Reilly's friendly Gus Osinski saves
many scenes, and the guy plays a believable and
sentimental drunk. He could have conditioned more the
role, though.
Another strong supporting role is turned in by Jena
Malone as Jane's daughter Heather. Jane is a single mom,
and worries constantly about guys being turned off by the
idea of a ready-made child (another familiar situation in
films!). Malone does a remarkable job in portraying
Heather as (roughly) a 13 year-old, and then as a college
student at USC. What a gap!
The movie does take a few risks that make it better than
average. There's a neat motif, a sort of reverse deep
focus when Billy blocks out the stadium noise, his
"mechanism" cutting in and the crowd around him
blurring into silence: this is a sort of cinematic
synethesia.
Not as good as the aforementioned "The Natural"
or Costner's triumph, "Bull Durham," "For
Love of the Game" takes its time for a relationship
to be developed and thwarted many times over. The result
is a pleasant but rather weightless film. What Costner
should do is stop hitting with a fungo bat, and step up
to the serious plate of an art film, an independent
venture that would put his integrity and his career back
on track.

Related 'For
Love of the Game' Links:

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