NFR Project: “The Pride of the Yankees”
Dir: Sam Wood
Scr: Jo Swerling, Herman J. Mankiewicz
Pho: Rudolph Mate
Ed: Daniel Mandell
Premiere: July 14, 1942
128 min.
This is the story of
an American hero. In fact, it is a hagiography, the depiction of the life of a
secular saint. It’s a tribute to baseball’s Lou Gehrig. (“It’s the great
American story!” insists the movie’s poster.)
Gehrig (1903-1941) was
an outstanding baseball player, one of history’s finest. He is best remembered as
“The Iron Horse,” who played in 2,130 consecutive games (a record that stood until
1995). A tremendous hitter, he was part of the New York Yankees infamous “Murderer’s
Row” during the ‘20s and ‘30s.
Unfortunately, at
the height of his career he began to suffer from the degenerative neuromuscular
disease, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. On May 2, 1939, he took himself out of
the lineup and never played ball again. Two and half years later, he passed
away.
All this information
was fresh in the minds of viewers when this film biography came out only a year
after his death. Actor Gary Cooper was a natural pick to play Gehrig, as he was
the go-to guy for the portrayal of heroes at this time in Hollywood. Cooper
knew nothing about baseball, but was coached through the film to be as convincing
as possible. He was also 41, and just at the edge of being too old for the
role.
The screenplay is
rather thin. This is due to, primarily, the fact that Gehrig was a quiet,
humble man with an insane work ethic. There were no scandals in his life, and
he never made with the bad attitude. This wholesome individual simply performed
on the field as few did, and lived out his days in peace.
So the screenplay
contains a lot of what might best be described as “bush-wah.’” Gehrig is shown
shattering a neighboring shop window with a home-run ball as child, and a
campus building’s window when a freshman at Columbia University, both
apocryphal stories.
His prowess
short-circuits his plan to go finish college and get a degree in engineering, to
the consternation of his overbearing mother. (Gehrig lived with his parents,
and didn’t marry until he was 30.)
His baseball career
is stellar, but we spend only a little time on the field, mainly though swiftly
moving montages. The focus on the film is his relationship with his wife,
Eleanor (Teresa Wright). Their love is story is enheartening, and mostly made
up. (They did not meet cute at a ball game; Eleanor’s struggles with Gehrig’s
mother are downplayed here.) Gehrig’s pal reporter Sam Blake (the indispensable
Walter Brennan) becomes convinced that Gehrig is cheating on his wife; in
reality, Eleanor shows him that Gehrig is busy umpiring a sandlot baseball game
with a lot of kids.
Some of Gehrig’s
teammates appear in the film, mostly notably Babe Ruth. The Babe gets to act as
his gregarious self in a few scenes, which is a bit of a lark. Gehrig and Ruth
hit homers for a crippled kid in the hospital. Also, for some unknown reason,
we are treated to an extended performance by Ray Noble and His Orchestra, who
accompany dancers Veloz and Yolanda in a sequence that seems to have cavorted
in from another universe.
The movie plays
pretty much as a romantic comedy until the last half-hour, when Gehrig receives
his diagnosis and he stands up to fact that his days are numbered. “All the
arguing in the world can't change the decision of the umpire,” he says. (It is
reported elsewhere that x-rays taken of Gehrig at the Mayo Clinic showed
several fractured bones, breaks that did not prevent him from playing his record
number of consecutive games.)
He gets to say his
goodbyes. Finally, the Yankees host a special tribute to him, at which he says,
famously, “People all say that I’ve had a bad break. But today I consider myself
the luckiest man on the face of the earth.” Play ball! The End.
The movie has nothing
bad to say about its subject, and why should it? Gehrig’s story is tragic and perhaps
unfortunately made for telling via the movies. It’s a heartstring-tugger and a
tearjerker. Like Gehrig, it is exactly what it seems to be, a gentle and romanticized
tribute to a unique and courageous human being.
The NFR is one writer’s attempt to review all
the films listed in the National Film Registry in chronological order. Next time: Bambi.
