The picture’s odd title, “Foxcatcher,”
in effect explains itself in an introductory montage of black and white still
photographs mixed in with home movies, showing images of horses, riders, dogs,
and inevitably, rich people in fancy riding clothes — something right out of
one of those British PBS television series. The title refers to a grand estate,
the home of John E. du Pont, of the fabulously wealthy du Ponts,
a place where his family and their friends rode over hill and dale after a
panicked canine, an aristocratic sport that Oscar Wilde characterized as “the
unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable.”
That estate
and its inhabitants provide the subject, and in a sense the themes, of this
most unusual film, a docudrama based on a strange and tragic history. The
notion of fox hunting almost comically recedes into a kind of picturesque
background, replaced by another sport — of all things, wrestling, an endeavor
far removed from the polite brutality of the hunt.
The movie
focuses on three men, Mark Schultz (Channing Tatum), his brother David (Mark Ruffalo), both winners of gold medals for wrestling in the
1984 Olympics, and the wealthy amateur who wants to coach them for the 1988
games, John du Pont (Steve Carell). A lonely young
man who trains with his older brother, who he believes always overshadowed him,
Mark apparently lacks anything like a life outside the gym, while David enjoys
normality with a wife and children. Both men succumb in different ways to the
wealth and power of John du Pont.
Du Pont
initially recruits Mark to serve as the leader of a group of wrestlers, Team Foxcatcher, he hopes to send to the 1988 Olympics in Seoul.
He pays him a good salary, sets him up in a house on the estate, and
intimidates him with books and videos about the history of his family and the
size of their fortune. He also desperately wants to enlist David as both
participant and coach, which takes a great deal more time and effort and leads
to several personal and brotherly complications.
Du Pont describes himself —
accurately — as an ornithologist, philatelist, and philanthropist, and babbles
constantly about his patriotism, his desire to return America to its rightful
place (wherever that is), and his noble duties as a coach. A complete
egomaniac, he speaks about his functions as father, brother, mentor, role
model, and other self-aggrandizing duties, even commissioning a documentary on
his work with the wrestlers.
Despite his
reiterated lectures about training and dedication, du Pont corrupts Mark
Schultz, introducing him to cocaine and some of the life of the sybarite.
Although the director maintains a level of discreet understatement, the movie
strongly suggests that du Pont seduces Mark, which leads to a sexual
relationship. In one odd scene, for example, a half-naked Mark, his hair
frosted, barbers John, then knees reverentially at his feet; du Pont’s devotion
to wrestling may reflect his love of seeing muscular young men grappling
strenuously with each other.
Much,
perhaps too much, of the film focuses on the actual business of training and
Mark’s and David’s progress through several tournaments. The script also tends
to repeat endlessly John du Pont’s tiresome conversations about his work, his
dream, his successes, etc. He also corrupts the Olympic Committee, apparently
not a difficult task, promising to contribute $500,000 a year to guarantee that
his Foxcatcher estate will serve as the headquarters of
United States wrestling.
Beyond the beautiful exteriors of the
vast Foxcatcher property, the sumptuous interiors of
the mansion, the careful depiction of actual tournaments, the fascination of a
documented tragic history, the picture really belongs to the three main actors.
Amid the emotional complications and the sweaty intimacy of the sport, the
three men perform with terrific skill.
As David
Schultz, Mark Ruffalo provides the only instance of
human decency in the movie, caring for his brother in ways that Mark never
understands or appreciates, meeting a shocking but not really surprising fate.
Given very little dialogue, playing an inarticulate character, Channing Tatum
must suggest emotion mutely, through his facial expressions and telling
silences.
Amazingly
however, the picture really belongs to Steve Carell
of all people. The hapless goof of pictures like “The 40-Year-Old Virgin” simply
inhabits the role of the ridiculous, increasingly psychotic millionaire;
speaking a reedy boarding school accent, keeping his head constantly at an odd
upward slant, behaving with the arrogant confidence of an immensely wealthy man
with generations of famous ancestors, he displays an entirely unexpected
dimension to his talents. He suits the role and the picture perfectly: he
actually makes “Foxcatcher” his movie.
For another take on “Foxcatcher,” you can read Adam Lubitow’s review of the film here.
This article appears in Dec 17-23, 2014.
