Here's a Dallas Morning News column on the inaccuracies in the movie:
By Gary West
The Dallas Morning News
(KRT)
DALLAS – It’s true, even if it didn’t happen.
Art doesn’t tell the truth; it reveals the truth. And the movie Seabiscuit, which opened Friday, reveals much truth about people’s relentless capacity for renewal, about this country’s indomitable spirit, about the struggle to recover from the Depression and even about horse racing.
The film entertains, excites and amuses. It’s uplifting, even inspiring. But it’s also Hollywood, and faithfulness can’t be counted among the film’s many virtues. Neither to its source, Laura Hillenbrand’s superb biography, nor to history is the film faithful.
Seabiscuit, quite simply, is rife with inaccuracies. For example, jockey Red Pollard and Seabiscuit return from injuries in the 1940 Santa Anita Handicap. In fact, Seabiscuit prepared for the Big ‘Cap by running three races, winning the San Antonio Handicap, and Pollard rode him in all three.
But, of course, the movie’s version is more dramatic.
In the film, Pollard seriously injures his right leg during the week leading up to the famed match race with War Admiral. In fact, Pollard injured the leg more than four months earlier, on June 23, 1938, just before the Massachusetts Handicap, where Seabiscuit would have taken on War Admiral but, because of injury, was a late scratch.
But, of course, the movie’s version is more dramatic.
In the film, Seabiscuit rallies from a distant planet to win the Santa Anita Handicap. In truth, he raced close to the pace and assumed the lead before reaching the second turn.
But, of course, the movie’s version is more dramatic.
In the film, Charles Howard bought Seabiscuit after his trainer, Sunny Jim Fitzsimmons, and just about everybody else had given up on the headstrong colt. In fact, prior to his sale, Seabiscuit won consecutive races at Saratoga.
But the movie’s version is more dramatic.
The actual events are so fraught with drama that they would seem to obviate any need for revisionism. Seabiscuit, who raced for a claiming price of $2,500 as a 2-year-old, indeed overcame injury, many injuries in fact, to become one of the most accomplished horses of the era. He won 33 races and retired with $437,730 in earnings, a record for the time. Pollard, too, had an inspiring career. When he shattered his right leg, he was even then coming back from injuries suffered in a spill that had shoved him into death’s anteroom.
But Seabiscuit is Hollywood, and it’s art, and so the facts are subordinated to the show. The inaccuracies don’t diminish the film. And given the film’s artistic objects, the revisions are forgivable – at least most of them.
But some of the infidelities, those revisions not made for dramatic effect, are just sloppy and careless. Prior to the 1940 Santa Anita Handicap, for example, Pollard is at the barn talking to Howard and Seabiscuit’s trainer, Tom Smith, about the race. And Pollard is wearing his silks.
In another scene, War Admiral is described as being nearly 18 hands tall and the diminutive Seabiscuit as weighing about 1,200 pounds. Ridiculous. At one point, Pollard and jockey George Woolf greet each other as their horses are being loaded into the starting gate, as if the riders hadn’t seen each other for weeks and until that very moment. Nonsense. And when Pollard rationalizes a poor ride by saying another jockey came in on him, nearly putting him over the fence, he had it wrong. The other ride came out and bumped him.
Early in the film, there is some discussion about Seabiscuit’s attempt to win a record seven consecutive stakes. Actually, in 1907-08, Colin won 15 consecutive races, including 14 stakes.
Woolf, who rode Seabiscuit 10 times, was nicknamed “The Iceman.”
And in talking about Woolf’s riding Seabiscuit in the famed match race, radio personality “Tick-Tock” McGlaughlin alludes to the Eugene O’Neill play “The Iceman Cometh,” which wouldn’t appear on the stage for another seven years.
But the most egregious and unforgivable error occurs in the 1940 Santa Anita Handicap, which distorts, even perverts, the actual race. Gary Stevens, who plays Woolf, drags his mount back to last, presumably with the thought that in doing so he’ll provide Seabiscuit, who’s lagging, a competitive incentive. The awkward dramatization insults the sport. If any jockey rode a horse as Stevens does in the film, he’d be suspended for the duration of the season.
So the movie, like the horse, stumbles in a few places. Some of the races seem too choreographed; some of the scenes too contrived. Still, this isn’t a documentary. And even if the film isn’t entirely factual, it’s largely true. Most of all, it’s true to a nation and a sport that have limitless capacities for inspiring dreams and encouraging hope.
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