Legend of Bagger Vance, The

View Date: November 4th, 2000

Cast :

Writers:Ryan Rowe, Ed Solomon and John August

Director: Robert Redford 

The Legend of Bagger Vance is cinematic irony defined, at least for its director.  Robert Redford takes this story of an athlete, battling demons from his past, and turns into a reflection of a director trying recapture past glory by revisiting his successes (the style of River Runs Through It, parallel storyline with The Natural).   Unfortunately, in his making of the Legend of Bagger Vance, he has stretched his thoughtful ideas to the bare maximum, taking an interesting, but unoriginal idea, and spending two hours getting to a destination that seemingly only he doesn’t know.  The result is an overblown, over verbalized, emotional mess of unresolved storylines, which flashes briefly at great potential, but then gets buried, again in manipulative tripe. 

Very few movies capture golf, and carry it along for an entire running time.  The granddaddy of them all is of course Caddyshack, which captures the sheer fun and competition of it all, while thumbing its nose at the very demographic which populates the majority of the sport.  Tin Cup then showed that you could lace in serious themes, while still poking, and having some fun.  Maybe Redford should have paid more attention and lightened up a little bit during this tale of a golf savant (Damon), fighting off demons, in the Bill Murrayesque weekend of his life competition against legends of the game.  Set amidst the desperation of the South, this film needed an infusion of energy like Louie Anderson needs a salad.  The movie starts wonderfully with Jack Lemmon as a golfer who suffers a heart attack, and flashes back to his inspiration for playing golf.  Why is it that every emotional journey has to involve a flashback?  The only downside to Saving Private Ryan was its beginning and end, which existed only to twist our heart screws a little more.  You can see that coming here as well, it is unavoidable, and unfortunate, a symbol of things to come. There is the great depression, families starving and failing, the horrors of war, and through it all, they clung to the spirit of their hometown boy, during an epic battle.  Somewhere in there, lay a great story.  Mix in a borderline stereotypical African American mystery figure (Smith), and a youthful guide (Moncrief), to steer him and the story along, and there was hope.  Moments and flashes of brilliance show up in the script, such as Damon’s monologue on the effects of alcohol on the brain, but in its onscreen translation, it seems to forced, and too manipulative on the emotions.  There is a plotline involving the desperation of a small town fighting to stay alive, which is abandoned in favor of the competition, but still would have remained prevalent. Overall, the plot needed a dose of reality, the harder it tries to relate to the battle to overcome demons, the deeper into the over emotional rough it goes.  Finally, when things are resolved, it is unsatisfying, and relieving at its obvious and ultimate goal. 

 The performances are acceptable, if for no other reason, then having to keep a straight face through some of these obviously forced lines.  Damon continues to show his diversity, combining playful charm, with a tortured psyche from the war (call it Private Ryan comes home and plays the back 9), while Smith tones it down, and shows that he can play it straight, while still infusing his unique style and charm into every role.  The requisite cute little kid is effective, but also seems to be thrown in merely for effect, as are some of the supporting characters.  Theron is again the victimized woman, who tries to gain power from her losses, something she can do well, since she’s done it so often. 

Ultimately, Legend of Bagger Vance is the cinematic version of the very sport, which it attempts to parallel the human and emotional connection.  Watching golf on television is long, drawn out; slow, with moments and flashes of excitement, but ending up at a fairly inevitable conclusion.  The same stands for the film.  Redford turns on the heartstrings, over directs the script, and in the end, during the most revelatory moments, has the audience beat into a near saline induced submission.  You will stand up and cheer, when the credits roll, not for the results, but for the fact that you survived.  The conclusion, which I’m only slightly sorry to say, was ruined for me by some early promotions on the film, loses its zing as well, over the snores of the audience.  This could have been something special, a true journey, framed by historic legacy that is this game of links.  Instead, it captures all the wrong aspects of the game, while conforming to those standards and guidelines by which these kinds of cookie cutter movies live by.  Every great director has his stumbles, or temporarily loses focus and is thus forced to retreat to past successes.  Redford summons his past spirits, which turn into demons in the end, haunting this film, and dragging into a monotonous repetitive boredom.  This could have been one for the ages, instead, its just one for insomniacs. ($$ out of $$$$)

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