Foxcatcher
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
It’s Tokyo Olympics time, so we’re getting a little into the season here at Films Fatale. Each weekday will involve a film relating to the Olympics in any way. They can be sports films or other genres, and real or fictitious.
What lies beneath the true story narrative of Bennett Miller’s uncompromising Foxcatcher is a tale of three different types of anger. You have gold medal Olympian Mark Schultz, who has the temper of a raging bull, who hurts himself more than he does others (ironic for an accoladed wrestler, don’t you think?). There’s his brother, Dave, who can hold his emotions back but isn’t afraid to speak his mind for the betterment of his loved ones (he’s the most level headed character here). Then, there’s multimillionaire John du Pont, who history has captured as an introverted, silent statue who brews hatred within him to the point of being out of control. Naturally, the real events captured in Foxcatcher are as unsurprising as those in films like Zero Dark Thirty or Lincoln: if you know what the story is about, then you know how it ends. Here, we know about John du Pont’s murder of Dave Schultz, but what Miller wanted to figure out is where this pent up anger — that somehow justified killing someone in cold blood to du Pont — came from.
So Foxcatcher is full of some embellishments, but they’re the kind of additions that better the angle that Miller was going for. In a cutthroat America, wrestling isn’t the only sport where grappling, tossing, and pinning is used to get the upper hand or position of power. So is capitalism, and the du Pont family was all about appearances, hence why matriarch Jean didn’t approve of John’s fascination with the sport. Nonetheless, John did pick up on the many manipulations and maneuvers to get exactly what he wanted, including a team of wrestlers ready for the upcoming Olympics. He wanted only the best, and that’s what he found in the successful Schultz brothers. Wrestling was a love of his, but John du Pont used this sport as a means of obtaining even more power to add to his empire. He couldn’t let anyone take his love or his position away.
Steve Carrell has never been better than his work as John du Pont.
In a year where the two biggest actors going head-to-head for an Academy Award were Michael Keaton (for Birdman) and Eddie Redmayne (who would win for The Theory of Everything), I was rooting for Steve Carrell, who frankly has never been better than his frightening performance as John du Pont. In fact, I’d go on to say that this was one of my favourite performances of the 2010’s. Sure, the prosthetic makeup helps Carrell dive into his role, but here Carrell is unlike we’ve ever experienced him. There’s zero charm or humour. This is a lifeless corpse of a man who has thousand yard stares in every direction. His wandering aim of his pistol is far more terrifying than the steady grip of an experienced shooter, since you have no idea where he will target next. Even at his angriest or happiest, you feel like du Pont is feigning his emotions, like he has to do these things in order to feel human. It’s an exemplary performance that I cannot recommend enough.
Channing Tatum and Mark Ruffalo as the Schultz brothers are also great, the former being better than he’s ever been (and not wooden, as he typically is), and the latter being his humanistic, hyper real self that he always is. These performances circle around the frigid film Miller presents us, where any success doesn’t feel happy, and the United States just feel barren. I used to heavily dislike how quickly the film wraps up, as if Miller just slapped on the aftermath of the story onto the end just to have something there. However, this feels like a nihilistic epilogue, where a storyteller just hands over a quick look at what happens next, shrugs (because it won’t make any lick of difference), and allows you to leave still feeling sick about the senseless killing that took place beforehand. I still won’t pretend to say I love this ending, but I’ve come around with admiring its lack of warmth. It’s only fitting.
Even at its most triumphant, Foxcatcher feels intentionally soulless.
It’s rare to see a sport film (or a film relating to sports in any way) with this little life in it. It’s refreshing, if anything. Seeing the aftermath of sports represented throughout is important in Miller’s version of the American Dream (that nothing will ever grant you everlasting joy; not success, not money, and not winning). Nothing here is phoned in; if anything, it’s almost too real. Foxcatcher is as unforgiving as sports related films get, and even for historical dramas as well. Despite its lifelessness, every blow in Foxcatcher still hurts and lands exactly where it should. That’s the sign of fantastic filmmaking by Bennett Miller, who channels enough of his frustrations here to encapsulate an industry, a society, capitalism, and a nation for years. Looking at the mental and physical exhaustion during the 2021 Olympics and in other sports, as well as the abuse within sports, and you’ll see that Miller really wasn’t that far off. He took a devastating real event and spoke volumes about its potential origins. Whether you are an athlete being coached, a servant hired by a millionaire, or just a citizen trying to stay afloat, you will most likely be spat upon and mistreated. It’s a harsh reality, but it’s one that Miller wants us to face, because it’s absolutely true to so many of us.
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.