I’ll never know what it’s like to be ostracized, ridiculed, or publicly demeaned because of the color of my skin. But thanks to the movie 42, I have a better feel for what it must have been like for African Americans in the years preceding the Civil Rights movement. And I’m grateful to writer and director Brian Helgeland, and actor Chadwick Boseman, for that opportunity.
The movie draws its title from the number on the back of the uniform baseball player Jackie Robinsons wore for the Brooklyn Dodgers. Helgeland drew his inspiration from Robinson’s rookie year. As the first African American to play Major League ball, Robinson broke an important barrier. But it wasn’t easy.
The entire cast of 42 does a very effective job of reproducing the racist attitudes of that era. This was a time when “colored people” had their own entrances, restrooms, and seating at ball games. Although this is hard to comprehend now, this was the world only a handful of years ago. The most memorable scene along these lines involves Philadelphia Phillies manager Ben Chapman taunting Robinson from the dugout as Robinson stands at the plate, trying to hit the pitches coming at him. Much of the drama during the movie comes from people being worried Robinson will explode in anger, and it all comes to a head in this scene. As actor Alan Tudyk hurls a heinous string of insults, I could see the fury burning in Boseman’s eyes. I had never heard of Boseman before learning about 42, making his tightly controlled but deeply expressive performance one of the best surprises of the movie.
Even the actors with bit roles deliver stand-out performances, like the security guard that walks onto the field during a game and demands Robinson leave “because you’re not going to change our way of life.”
Another surprise: Harrison Ford’s performance as Branch Rickey, the team executive of the Dodgers. Fake bushy eyebrows aside, Ford’s performance as the gruff but likeable Rickey is hugely entertaining, and unlike anything the actor has done. It’s not showmanship, either, even though Rickey appears to have been a character. Rather, Ford delivers a believable portrayal of a man who wanted to change the game of baseball. Another of the dramatic threads Helgeland weaves through the movie is the slow revelation of Rickey’s reasons for signing Robinson. I like the revelation of his motivations in the final scene Ford and Boseman have together.
As I write about 42, I’m reminded of how much I enjoyed the movie as I watched it. The visual replication of that era, from the clothes, to the cars, to the ball fields, looks flawless. And I like how Helgeland portrayed Robinson’s wife, Rachel, as a staunch supporter of her husband. There’s no fake off-the-field drama involving her wanting him to quit playing ball and stay home with her and their baby, just her being strong for him, and helping to keep him on the straight and narrow. And I liked the brisk pace at which the movie moves.
I’m also reminded of what I believe were missed opportunities. In particular, 42 ends with a slight thud. Helgeland covers the Dodger’s victory in a pennant race and the hand Robinson had in making that happen, but it feels like he’s trying too hard to stir up an end-of-the-movie glow, and it’s not there. Why not wrap up with Robinson being named Rookie of the Year? That was a curious omission. I also wish Helgeland had devoted more screen time to some of the friendships Robinson developed, and in particular his relationship with Pee Wee Reese. Actor Lucas Black has a couple of key scenes as Reese, but they feel more like inserts than something Helgeland developed over the course of several scenes.
Despite these shortcomings, 42 is a highly entertaining movie, and worthy of joining the ranks of movies like The Help, Lincoln, and to a lesser degree, Red Tails, in making sure we remember this unsavory chapter in our history so we never repeat it.
Rated PG-13 for thematic elements and language. Three stars out of four.