42

Today marks the 66^th anniversary of Jackie Robinson’s debut with the Brooklyn Dodgers. The significance of that moment can’t be overstated. While he wasn’t actually the first African-American in the Majors, he still broke through a barrier into an organization that, like many things at the time, only allowed white men, and did so well before the Civil Rights Movement (and a year before the desegregation of the U.S. Military) when Jim Crow and segregation were alive and the norm. I'd say his legacy hasn't dimmed: his number 42 is retired throughout Major League Baseball, except for today when every player wears it (42 makes sure to point out both facts in its closing montage).

The legend and historical importance of Jackie Robinson is so big that it seems to outshine the story of Jackie Robinson the man. 42 gives us a little bit of a look at the man, but is obviously intent on maintaining the legend.

The film depicts the initial signing of Robinson (Chadwick Boseman) in 1945 and his first season with the Dodgers two years later. The narrative consists not of typical sports drama, but of anecdotes. Well-known instances of the verbal and sometimes physical abuse he endured are depicted, as are certain moments when his team stood up for him, such the famous embrace from Pee Wee Reese (Lucas Black). Writer-director Brian Helgeland weaves the anecdotal and authentic into a script that is never too sentimental, always engrossing, and a lot fun at times (he does make sure all the racists meet some little comeuppance, if only from a scripting perspective) and serious when it needs to be.

Credit is due for not sugarcoating the racism. While not nearly on the shocking level of Django Unchained, it’s hardly sanitized, and it’s not tackled ridiculously like in Crash. The film is rated PG-13, and the MPAA made the right decision not to give it an R and thus likely barring a younger segment of the audience from seeing it. The film should be seen by younger viewers to get an idea what racism really is, how hurtful it can be, and how strong the spirits of Robinson and those before and after him had to be to overcome it.

Boseman gives a subdued, stoic performance, embodying the quiet grace and will that epitomizes the Jackie Robinson legend. He doesn’t really delve too much past that, but there are glimpses under his skin. His subtle facial expressions and actions communicate a whole range of emotion and inner turmoil. Robinson may never have retaliated against the abuse he got, but Boseman’s depiction makes it clear that he was human, not superhuman, and it wasn’t easy being targeted because of his race.

Surprisingly, the more lively roles are the people around Boseman. Harrison Ford brings a solid understated authority and some humor as Dodgers general manager Branch Rickey, which works despite the fact that the makeup and accent certainly can’t disguise the fact that it’s Harrison Ford. As Dodgers manager Léo Durocher, Christopher Meloni matches Ford on the humor but contrasts him with a fiery demeanor. And the team surrounding Boseman all back him up well, whether their characters support or reject him onscreen.

The film’s baseball moments are down pat; it’s the parts outside baseball that leave some to be desired. The movie only scratches the surface of the man behind the legend, with only passing references to Robinson’s life outside the game. Nicole Beharie brings some graceful support as his wife Rachel, but even she seems like a secondary character. On the macro level, the film doesn’t quite capture just how important Robinson was. His struggles are depicted vividly, while the inspiration of him enduring them comes off a little too lightly. The lack of these elements doesn’t hurt 42 as whole, but it could have been so much more.

The film also fills almost every archetype of the biopic and sports movie formula. But it overcomes both of them, the former because it’s made with skill and care, and the latter because the story is one of purpose, not faux-inspirational Hollywood schmaltz. And I’ll admit: I’m a baseball fan, so I may be a little more forgiving on this level. But even if you're not, the picture is a respectful and loving tribute to Robinson, told with the reverence of a fable passed down to different generations.