Moneyball

The sun-drenched fields and glowing stadium lights common in most sports films are nowhere to be found in Moneyball, as director Bennett Miller instead focuses his attention on the florescent-lit back offices and dingy stadium tunnels where baseball’s decision makers spend most of their waking hours. Hollywood, like baseball, loves an underdog story. In Moneyball, baseball’s best-known back office underdog gets Hollywood’s hero treatment.

Michael Lewis’ 2003 book, "Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game," used numerous characters and plotlines to tell the story of how statistical analysis crept into baseball front offices and began to upend the sport’s conventional wisdom. Billy Beane, General Manager of the Oakland Athletics, emerged as the hero of Lewis’ book. In his film, Miller narrows the scope of the tale further, focusing exclusively on Beane’s efforts to creatively construct a winning team during the 2002 baseball season, despite major financial disadvantages. In the story of one man’s struggle to prove the worth of a new philosophy, Miller lets that philosophy become a textural backdrop, while wringing all the drama he can from Beane’s personal struggle.

The nuance and history of the ideas Beane employs make their way into film at times, such as when voiceovers accompany close-ups of statistical spreadsheets, and a cacophony of opinions on Beane’s unorthodox strategies are heard from talk-radio hosts in a montage. But more often, Miller shows Beane (Brad Pitt, who was also a producer of the film) talking fast, ruffling feathers, and brooding about the potential pitfalls of his actions. Miller steadily ratchets up the emotional drama of the film, but at times Moneyball strays into the world of Hollywood cliché. Beane frequently breaks things out of frustration; a thin subplot with his daughter makes repeated use of a sappy guitar ballad; and the film’s climax crams in a brief extraneous action sequence where Beane races off the highway en route to the stadium.

While a realist aesthetic permeates most of the film, a few dramatic on-field moments are given a stylized, contrast-heavy look that cinematographer Wally Pfister achieved in part by turning off many stadium lights during game action – here, and throughout the film’s storyline, mood takes precedence over the details of what happens in any given game.

The script, by Steven Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin, does away with some of the more famous scenes from Lewis’ book and adds its own layers, intensifying the focus on Beane’s personal struggle. A former player whose promising career went nowhere, Beane is shown to be especially burdened by telling players that they have been cut. Peter Brand (Jonah Hill), a fictionalized laptop-toting Assistant General Manager, allows Beane’s thoughts about baseball and life to be voiced through witty exchanges. The sharp dialogue between Beane and the scouts who personify the old-school baseball mentality is also especially strong.

Pitt plays Beane as a charismatic, introspective man who wants more out of his career than money or recognition. This constant striving is evident in his gaze during phone calls and meetings, as he always seems preoccupied with some new idea or question. Hill also delivers an impressive, nuanced performance that demonstrates a range beyond the comedic roles he has played in the past. Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who starred in Miller’s last film, Capote, returns here as the A’s Manager, Art Howe, and gives a credible performance against his type. Baseball fans will surely appreciate some of the minor casting choices as well, such as baseball journeyman Royce Clayton playing former A’s star Miguel Tejada.

It is difficult to understate the impact that Lewis’ book has had on baseball culture. Largely due to "Moneyball," legions of fans have begun to follow general managers as closely as they follow players, and a new generation of quantitative analysts has eschewed careers on Wall Street to earn paltry wages for baseball teams, building models determining which college players will be undervalued in the next draft.

The book’s adaptation vexed Hollywood for years, and an earlier version that was to be directed by Steven Soderbergh, reportedly featuring some documentary elements, was halted just days before commencing production in 2009. Some baseball fans that hold the book dear will be highly conscious of what is left out of Miller’s film, but movies should not be judged by their fidelity to books. Miller, Zaillian, and Sorkin have created an engaging cinematic chronicle of Beane’s quest, using many of Hollywood’s finest tools and craftsmanship. While some details may fall by the wayside, the film packages Beane’s story to reach audiences well beyond the baseball world.

                                             Derek Sylvan