42 is perpetually on the cusp of greatness, but never quite gets there. More interested in deifying Jackie Robinson, 42 executes some really intense scenes displaying Robinson’s inner fortitude and Branch Rickey’s wisdom. However, Jackie Robinson the person is already a compelling individual: he doesn’t need to be Hollywooded. In preserving Jackie Robinson’s legend, 42 does a disservice to Jackie Robinson (Chadwick Boseman) the character.
We are transplanted back to 1946. Branch Rickey’s (Harrison Ford) Brooklyn Dodgers just missed out on the pennant. In response, Rickey decides to hire Major League Baseball’s first African-American: Jackie Robinson. The movie chronicles Jackie’s hire, his stint in AAA, his call up to the big club, and some of the criticism he had to endure, especially from Phillies Manager Chapman (Alan Tudyk) as well as his own teammates.
42 elects to tell the entire breadth of Robinson’s interactions. As such, the focus on the extraordinary man gets muted. Sure Robinson’s wife is important to him, but in the context of this film, she really doesn’t add much to his story. The Rickey/Robinson relationship is fascinating, but we don’t learn enough about Branch Rickey to make him interesting. That relationship should have bled over into the relationship between Robinson and his teammates, which gets the shortest end of the stick. There are so many angles to play with the teammates: How do they feel about Robinson getting special treatment from the owner? How does the coach deal with a volatile situation? How do players’ pasts affect their understanding of Robinson? All these themes are explored, but only at a surface level, leaving their impact as comic relief or underwhelming payoff.
Despite how flawed some of the character development is, the story itself is so compelling it’s hard not to be swept up in it. The scenes during the Dodger-Philly game are tough to stomach but give the audience perspective as to what Robinson had to go though on a day-to-day basis. Watching Robinson either shake it off or break down out of sight keeps the audience in perpetual sympathy with the man. Outside of the baseball games, the simple scenes hit home hardest. Being denied a plane ride or a hotel room, not being able to shower with his teammates, or the endless paper trail of death threats showcase just how much scrutiny and potential humiliation Robinson had to put up with.
Visually, 42 looks great. The uniforms and stadiums match the era. The games were cross-checked with actual games so that final ending actually happened: it wasn’t a manufactured ending. The baseball scenes are well executed; since Robinson was as fast as he was strong-willed, 42 uses his speed and baseball acumen to steal bases and manufacture runs. In one scene, he steals two bases and causes a balk by the pitcher. That sequence has more payoff than a home run since it fits the persona of Jackie Robinson.
Chadwick Boseman is solid playing baseball’s lasting icon. There aren’t really any missteps, and his baseball athleticism is close enough that it isn’t distracting. His acting limits are hidden by Harrison Ford, who does a solid interpretation of Branch Rickey. With what limited information 42 gives on Rickey, Ford finds a good angle to give the man a scruffy, bold, wise personality (maybe it was just the cigar). Most of the teammates and managers are character actors who do the best job they can with the material they have. The only person to point out for doing the necessary bigot is Alan Tudyk, playing against type as a hateful redneck. His scenes provide the most powerful catharsis in 42, mostly because Tudyk truly makes us hate him.
Watching all the players wearing the number 42 provides a lasting image of just how much Jackie Robinson meant to baseball. I left the film inspired and honored by what the man accomplished, but just a little wanting that the movie couldn’t immerse the audience in what Jackie Robinson had to go through. Then again, because of Jackie Robinson, no one has to know what that type of criticism feels like.