There are some subjects that many feel don't fall under the definition of art, or even culture, like horse racing (for example). And yet, David Churchill and Mark Clamen, in declaring their love for the sport, wrote separately and eloquently about a movie (Secretariat) and a recently cancelled cable show (Luck) that brought to it a definitive cultural perspective.
It was quite exciting when he won because it had not been done since Citation in 1948. And it has only been done twice since, Seattle Slew (1977) and Affirmed (1978). Over the years, I've cheered on a variety of horses, some which managed to get the first two, but always failed at the longer and harder-to-achieve, Belmont Stakes. My favourite in recent years was Smarty Jones, a great horse considered “smallish” by thoroughbred standards, but who still managed to easily win the first two legs before being pipped at the wire by Birdstone at Belmont. I didn't even necessarily know I was doing this, but I've also discovered that I've always gone out of my way to watch horse racing films. Carroll Ballard's The Black Stallion (1979), Simon Wincer's Phar Lap (1983), Gary Ross's Seabiscuit (2003), Joe Johnston's Hidalgo (2003) and, of course, Randall Wallace's Secretariat (2010) which has just recently come to DVD. Some of these were great, such as Ballard's lyrical masterpiece; some are rousing entertainments (Hidalgo); some of them are sentimental crap (Seabiscuit – really unfortunate since it is based on an absolutely brilliant book written by Laura Hillenbrand); and some are old-fashioned, in the most gloriously positive sense (Secretariat). (A nod must be extended to my Critics at Large colleague Steve Vineberg for this description that he shared with Kevin Courrier; I couldn't agree more).
|A scene from Black Stallion|
|John Malkovich & Diane Lane|
At the end of it, my wife and I decided we should see the real thing and determined to go to Toronto's Woodbine Race Track. So, we did our research, downloaded newsletters about the upcoming weekend races, bought the Daily Racing Form and on Saturday, July 31st we headed out. Woodbine is a massive place with both horse racing (thoroughbred and harness – a sport I don't particularly like as it always seems so slow even though it's not) and slots. After a poor choice at first, we found seats right near the finish line on the second level. The seats were perfect as we had a great view of the charge down the backstretch.
At first, I couldn't understand why the stands were sparsely attended, or at least with so few people watching the race in person. Inside, around dozens of television screens, sat or stood a large group of people watching the races from across North America, including Saratoga in New York State and Fort Erie near Niagara Falls. These people were the hardcores. These were the people who were not there for the love of the horse or the love of the race, but the love of the bet. And it doesn't cost much to bet. You can wager as little as $2 on a horse to Win, Place (2nd) or Show (3rd) (and there's Trifectors, Supertrifectors, but you can look those up if you want to know what they are). Or you can do what we did for the first four races – just watch. Sure, we fantasy-picked winners (my wife picked two winners in the first four races we just observed), but the point for us was not the gambling, the point was to see these magnificent beasts run. I'm not one of those who believe that horses run because they are forced to; I believe that horses run because they love it. Why? Horses can be very, very stubborn animals. They don't want to do something if they don't want to. They run because they like it. They do it, I think, because they also like kicking the asses of the other horses. (Randall Wallace believes this as well since he makes that same point clear in Secretariat.) There's a seeming pride in these animals and they don't want anybody (anyhorse?) taking their pride of place on the track or the stable.
|The view at Woodbine - photo by David Churchill|
And the riders aren't always safe either. Ron Turcotte, who rode Secretariat (he's well-played in the film by Otto Thurwarth) to that Triple Crown, would later get tossed by a horse, leaving him a paraplegic. It's dangerous; that might be part of the appeal too.
|David's winning ticket|
But what made the day, beyond the beautiful horses, of course, were some of the characters that surrounded us. Gone are the pot-bellied older white guys with cigars in their mouth and a straw fedora on their head. They have been replaced by other characters who are creating a new old school. There was a very friendly fellow who sat beside us. We talked a bit, but generally just small talk. We never asked him about races, but noticed that he never went to place his bet until just before post because that was when the final odds were determined. But our favourites were a group of Jamaican guys. Sitting only about 10 feet from us, between races they talked reasonably quietly amongst themselves and smoked spliff after spliff (it was very good smelling pot). But during the races, there was another story. As the horses rounded the final bend, these guys would be on their feet, slapping the back of empty seats and, in one case, yelling over and over again, “Drop the bomb!” Essentially, run fast.
Our appreciation of their enthusiasm was not universally held (an older couple plugged their ears when these guys got in full voice), but we thoroughly enjoyed their vocal pyrotechnics. It made the final seconds of the races even more exciting. What was also hilarious is how personally they took it when their horse, especially if it was a favourite, didn't win. One time, one of them tore up his tickets and threw them up in the air; another time, one of them muttered at the losing horse and glared at it for minutes after the race was over. It made the environment so, well, full of life.
We had so much fun that three weeks later we went again. Our Jamaican friends were there again, but they were a bit more relaxed during the races. Parents brought cute babies or their young children, yet it didn't seem unseemly (these people were outside in the stands with us, not crowded around the TVs with the hardcores). Yes, the parents were betting, I guess (though I don't know for certain), but it seemed more a good way to spend an afternoon watching beautiful animals on display in all their glory. This time, we bet about the same (around $20, but we brought our own drinks and spent $6 for food) and this time we both managed to win two races each. We ended up making a $2.40 profit for our betting ways. Whoopee. We'll never get rich doing this, and for about four of the races we didn't bet, we just watched the thoroughbreds doing what they loved to do.
- originally published on September 7, 2011 in Critics at Large.
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|Dustin Hoffman as Chester 'Ace' Bernstein in Luck on HBO|
On January 29th, the first season of David Milch’s new HBO show, Luck, will begin – and it shows every sign that it can live up to the best that both Milch and HBO have to offer. Though we’ll have to wait six weeks to see new episodes of the show (which boasts screen legends Dustin Hoffman and Nick Nolte in their first regular roles in a TV series), this past Sunday HBO gave audiences a sneak peek at the new series when it aired its pilot episode.
Coming out of the gate strong, this show takes its time, and respects its audience, subjects, and characters the way that only a show which is truly meaningful to its creators can. Knowing a subject too well can be a liability when making a drama. (David Simon’s intimacy with Baltimore was an asset for most of the run of The Wire, but if the final season staggered just a bit, it was likely because Simon was just a little too close to the world of the Baltimore Sun that he introduced in that fifth season) But here, it seems, Milch’s lifelong association with the racetrack only seems to give him the confidence necessary to take it slow. A story that was basically five decades in the making, it paints a patient portrait of a unique world.
The pilot (directed by Michael Mann, who also is one of the show's executive producers) is beautiful to look at, and the world it presents is lovingly portrayed in all of its grit and glory. The star power of Hoffman and Nolte notwithstanding (and Hoffman is truly stunning in every one of his scenes, emanating maturity and depth with every look), this is a true ensemble show. In this first hour alone, we are introduced to a dozen characters, and every one of them shines in their brief time on screen – from the veteran horse trainer Escalante (John Ortiz), the young jockey Leon (Tom Payne), to the unnamed “exercise girl” (Kerry Condon, Rome). The horses themselves have already begun to become unique characters. (Nolte’s character’s horse already threatens to upstage him in their shared scenes.) Milch wrote the script for the pilot, and if Deadwood is any precedent will most certainly be at least co-credited with the script for every subsequent episode.
In December 2007, one month into the Writers Guild of America strike that would bring Hollywood to a standstill for three and a half months, David Milch – most famous as the creator of HBO's groundbreaking Western Deadwood – gave a series of impromptu lectures before a small audience of fellow writers and strikers at the WGA Theater in Beverly Hills. (An astute soul taped the talks, and they have been available online ever since. For the singular insight they offer into one of television's most creative and dangerous minds, I cannot recommend them more.) Interspersed with anecdotes about his first sexual encounter and his decades-long struggle with drugs and alcohol, the extemporaneous lectures touched on everything from Milch’s philosophy of writing, the deep ambivalence TV writers feel towards their bosses, and the essence of the creative process, to the life of St Paul and the nature of religious faith. And Milch also spoke about two very personal television projects that he’d been kicking around for a long time, both of which were extremely personal to him, and neither of which (he implied) he expected to ever see the light of day. One was a show about the racetrack. Luck is that show.
|David Milch on the set of Deadwood|
|Nick Nolte and co-star|
And unlike some of HBO’s most impressive, but initially impregnable, offerings (Milch’s own Deadwood, and the sublime The Wire), Luck comes out of the gate as a much more welcoming show. Perhaps it is simply a feature of the racing world itself: no-one really knows what’s going on, but they show up every day trying to figure it out, waiting for that big payout. Whatever addictions, anger, personal agonies these people are living with, they all know the real thing when they see it. And as a result, so do we.
- originally published on December 14, 2011 in Critics at Large.