Considering the remarkable life of the racehorse Seabiscuit, it was always going to be a primary difficulty of any screenwriter to tone down the events and make them sound something resembling believable. Such was the nature of the, ahem, beast that Gary Ross merely has to recount the fact to make a tired genre film - an underdog rising up to beat the odds - border on the inspired.
In a narrative recounted in three parts, we learn how three humans, owner Charles Howard (Bridges), aloof trainer Tom Smith (Cooper) and self-doubting jockey Red Pollard (Maguire) came to encounter the horse amid great personal tragedy. That they see something in the underweight no-hoper stallion (and he perhaps something in them) means Seabiscuit plays the against-all-odds card a little too easily. And while the movie is found a little wanting in the pure visceral thrill stakes, it has an old fashioned, completely unselfconscious air about it, which makes it difficult to resist. Maguire's performance continues his claims to be taken seriously as a leading man, while Bridges' sheer skill as an actor has to be marvelled at. Mark my words, this has Oscars written all over it.
