tandard inspirational sports drama music (by Randy Newman) opens the film, followed by narration over black-and-white stills of Model T production, transitioning to commentary on the assembly line. It wasn’t the invention of the automobile itself that had the biggest impact, but rather the design of an assembly line that reshaped the manufacturing industry. “It was the beginning and the end of imagination, all at the same time.”

It isn’t immediately apparent how that documentary-like setup will impact a biopic about a horse, though the basic notion finds an ambitious Charles Howard (Jeff Bridges) journeying from New York City in 1910 to San Francisco to open a bicycle shop, where he instead transitions into car repairs. It’s a land of opportunity out West, and Charles becomes fascinated with speed and horsepower and the potential of racing – which contrasts with the shift away from outdated means of conveyance, like animals, which is where horse trainer Tom Smith (Chris Cooper) comes into the picture. “I wouldn’t spend more than $5 on the best horse in America.”

Just as Howard’s successes skyrocket, the stock market crash of 1929 strikes, bringing back the sullen narrator, colorless stills of a depressed era, and a return to a simpler time – where young Johnny “Red” Pollard (Tobey Maguire) finds employment as a jockey in hardscrabble races. Although there’s money involved, these are the types of anarchic competitions where opponents lash out at each other with riding crops, tear at clothes, and throw punches when in range; one must be something of a combatant as well as an athlete to remain mounted. As historical elements weave their way lightly in the background, ringing truer with authentic costuming and settings and props, Howard, Smith, and Pollard eventually cross paths, each enduring personal tragedies and struggles that bring them to mental low points. By 1933, when booze is outlawed in the United States, a border town – complete with hookers, gin, and gambling – becomes the stage for their chance partnership.

Before that, however, a lengthy span of time is reserved for a love story, which oddly takes place between Charles and the much younger Marcela (Elizabeth Banks), seemingly just to suggest to audiences that the former auto titan has rediscovered his fondness for horses. This random circumstance leads to the acquisition of Seabiscuit, the titular mammal that doesn’t make an appearance until about 45 minutes into the film, where it then grows predictable that with the right animal, the right trainer, and the right rider, a legendary racing team can be formed. Plenty of sequences are designed to highlight the kindred spirits of undeterred fighters (especially those of smaller statures against larger competitors, like David versus Goliath), personas in desperate need of a sense of belonging and purpose, and existential thoughts about the value of lives. Sadly, it’s all quite formulaic.

The production values are high, with spectacular cinematography on the racetrack, while the acting is excellent. But this underdog tale doesn’t do much to stand out; the template it utilizes is about as basic as they come, fueled by rousing pep talks, intermittent montages, slow-motion shots of various competitions, teary-eyed closeups, and a stirring soundtrack. But every time the film tries to manipulate viewers, chiefly with flashbacks to demonstrate why Red and Seabiscuit are so angsty and angry, it essentially accomplishes the opposite by reiterating why it’s all so routine and straightforward (at one point, it’s called a rags-to-riches yarn, though it certainly never feels as if Seabiscuit was lifted out of crushing poverty, even if the trainer and jockey were possibly that low). There’s simply not much sympathy to be mined from Seabiscuit’s story; pitiable adversity isn’t depicted in a truly compelling fashion – even when Red reveals that his physical health would normally result in a money-hungry, fame-seeking boss dismissing the jockey in an instant, or when his own poor decisions land him in the hospital just days before the big race.

“Everybody loses a couple. And you either pack up and go home, or you keep fighting!” The overlong runtime (loosely encompassing the benchmarks of the real-life symbol of hope) definitely doesn’t help in building toward a thrilling climax, though it’s obvious that a final showdown between Seabiscuit and a much-favored, superiorly-bred, national champion will be the event that the previous two-hours-plus has built toward. Modest entertainment arises in this epic face-off, but it again emphasizes the plainness of the plot; despite Seabiscuit’s accomplishments mirroring the perseverance of the country in its endeavors to recover from the Great Depression, the match itself still just feels like a horse race. And it’s a climax that occurs too soon – more than 30 minutes before the end credits roll – as the remainder of the animal’s career is chronicled ever so slowly, including a comeback (for Red as much as Seabiscuit) that doesn’t have enough steam to make it appropriately potent, regardless of the recurring parallels to parenthood, second chances, and stubborn persistence. “Relax, guys. It’s gonna be fine.”

– Mike Massie