I’m not sure who Bennett Miller’s Moneyball is made for. I’m not sure if the people behind Moneyball even know who it’s made for. In theory, it should at least appeal to someone like me. I’m a fan of baseball. I know who Billy Beane is, and I know the players depicted onscreen. I understand the use of the advanced statistics in quantifying the abilities of players. And while these are relevant to the film’s underdog story, Moneyball isn’t really the uplifting sports film it has been marketed as. The film’s conflicted nature doesn’t end there, either. It’s part buddy comedy, part family drama and part character study. The end result is a baseball-obsessed film that’s rarely focused on what happens on the field.
Moneyball is based on Michael Lewis’ nonfiction book of the same name, which profiles the Oakland Athletics’ General Manager Billy Beane (Brad Pitt, at his most tanned and Californian). Both the book and film are all about Beane’s attempts at subverting traditional baseball scouting through the use of more esoteric and nerdy advanced statistics—exploiting what others have undervalued or mismanaged—as a means of keeping his financially destitute ball club competitive against teams with much, much bigger payrolls. The concept of a movie about statistics lacks some excitement, so the film ratchets up the outsider nature of what Beane and his dorky right-hand man Peter Brand (a likable Jonah Hill) are up to. It’s the same sort of behind-the-scenes insight co-writer Aaron Sorkin brought to The Social Network (2010), but here it feels lighter and lacks the same bite.
A lot of the film deals with the ridiculous nature of the “Moneyball” approach to baseball, a sport stubbornly steeped in tradition and extremely resistant to change. But since advanced statistical theory as applied to talent scouting isn’t much to drive a plot, the bulk of the film’s story comes from various subplots. A good bit of the film centers on the relationship between Billy and Pete, but the emotional center is clearly staged around Billy’s relationship to his daughter, Casey (Kerris Dorsey). Measured against the rest of the film, however, these family-drama segments feel sappy. Like Miller’s much-lauded Capote (2005), there’s a detachment—or a lack of emotional engagement—in the film that makes it difficult to really feel for Billy and his plight. Or maybe I just can’t muster much concern for a guy who worries about losing his job, yet can pay $250 grand out-of-pocket—as he does in one scene—to help get a player for the A’s.
Anyone looking for a traditional baseball picture will likely be disappointed, since we rarely see the team on the field. The one time we do—in Moneyball’s only bout of rote uplift—it feels forced, out of place and inconsequential. But this is the closest we get to dramatic tension, something the rest of the film sorely misses. Since we can’t care about Billy, and nothing really happens in the film, the entire picture feels paper thin. Yet the overall film still seems overstuffed and aimless thanks to its numerous plotlines. Moneyball is well-made and often entertaining, but it’s nothing more than that. Rated PG-13 for some strong language.
Well I personally love baseball. And I don’t have any hard feelings toward statistics. I’d even say that, while I’m no math whiz, they often fascinate me in a superficial way. So how is it, I wonder, that I was so sorely disappointed with this film?
The whole thing just felt lifeless to me, and I think you’re right in alluding to the fundamental problem. There simply isn’t a movie to be found in this material.
I couldn’t give less of a shit about baseball, but my love for Sorkin’s work may get me in the cinema. How does this compare to, say, THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT?
The whole thing just felt lifeless to me, and I think you’re right in alluding to the fundamental problem. There simply isn’t a movie to be found in this material.
I’ve never read the book, but I suspect it all works better on the page than on the screen. At least that’s the way it feels. I’m hoping for Moneyball II, where Brad Pitt fights Joe Morgan to the death.
I couldn’t give less of a shit about baseball, but my love for Sorkin’s work may get me in the cinema. How does this compare to, say, THE AMERICAN PRESIDENT?
I’ve never seen The American President, so I won’t be much help there. I think Sorkin’s the least of the film’s problems (my issues are mostly with the direction), and he gets what he can out of it. You might like it a bit more for that reason alone. I will say this is less a baseball movie than just a movie with baseball in it.
I had high expectations for MONEYBALL, all of which were exceeded. The early scene where Billy meets with his bull-headed scouts was surprisingly tense and well-crafted. It felt like he wanted to fire them all and/or slam them against the wall. Many strong interactions follow, most notably with Pitt and Hill (though the P.S. Hoffman scenes are frustratingly wonderful, too), and we mainly have Sorkin and Steven Zaillian to thank. The trade deadline scene is especially strong and has perhaps the film’s finest “crowd pleasing” moment. (I agree that it’s being improperly marketed.)
Not sure what to make of Billy’s relationship with his daughter. The storyline gives him an added sense of humanity, but he’s so dedicated to his job that he rarely sees her. There’s just enough presented to understand his family dynamic (or lack thereof), but when he makes his final big decision, it feels more out of loyalty to the A’s than to his daughter.
There are several reasons to consider “Moneyball” something other than a movie. One is that Billy Beane isn’t worthy of having a movie made about him. Either Brad Pitt was just doing a walkthru, or he nailed the essence of Beane after studying him, which makes it even more odd that someone wanted to film his story. Also, for the serious baseball fan (I qualify) the movie simply does not make the case for its central theme: that the decisions and moves that Beane made (AS DEPICTED IN THE FILM) might turn a bad team into one which was able to win 20 straight games. Winning 20 straight games in “The Show” is a remarkably difficult thing to do. And this film doesn’t make the case for it. What happens seems more miraculous than a result of Mr. Beane’s machinations. The geezers around that scouting table were right in much of what they said. Then, I guess, the baseball gods must’ve intervened. The movie gods surely didn’t. And that poor little chubby kid! He was essentially in his own movie. Much of the time you see him, he’s alone, not relating to anyone but Billy. Sadness envelopes him.
IТm not sure who Bennett MillerТs Moneyball is made for.
Turns out it was me. I hate baseball and I hate math, but boy did I have a good time at this picture.