After the gripping character studies and intelligent social commentaries that Bennett Miller has become such a master of, there's no better filmmaker to tackle this shocking true story—a tragedy about people who ambitiously chased the American Dream and actually fell for its seduction. Coming off of a championship win, Mark Schultz (Channing Tatum) is near the top of Olympic wrestling but lacks the proper wit, ambition, and strategy to further himself until he is fatefully invited to meet John du Pont (Steve Carell), a member of the most famous and wealthy dynasty in the country, who instills him with athletic fury, drive, and infectious motivational philosophy. Mark truly wants to be the best in the world, but his lacking astuteness has now led him away from his fatherly and encouraging brother, Dave Schultz (Mark Ruffalo)—a respected coach and wrestler who Mark enviously realizes is a whole level above him—and into the psychologically unpredictable hands of a creepily uncanny, eccentric stranger who he admittedly hasn't even heard of.
With the help of absolutely convincing make-up that shapes the noticeably wicked/large nose and eerie teeth, Carell delivers a powerfully haunting performance as a socially isolated and awkward man, raised in an out-of-touch environment all his life, who is struggling with numerous egoistic and trust issues that endlessly vex him from within. However, this is also Tatum's show as we follow the rise of this naïve meathead (how can I more politely describe him?) who is clearly vulnerable to being essentially puppeteered by exploitive, power-hungry men. It's worth to point out just how Tatum's childlike, innocent personality here infuses us with total pity for his character while Ruffalo's usual warmth makes us sympathize as well. In fact, Ruffalo's performance is most subtle of all; he's obviously not as flamboyant as the other two and is instead relied on to reflect a certain human quality in an otherwise utterly cold picture. Dave Schultz is a big brother who's undoubtedly talented in the sport, but unlike the other two, his pride doesn't get the better of him since he continually seeks to improve his brother on that path to fame and success as well.
Here is where it gets worryingly complicated though because these three personalities develop a paranoid, unreliable dynamic that sees each other vie for that ultimate glory. Foxcatcher thoroughly utilizes the sport of wrestling as not only a point of critique but also as a stark metaphor for this dangerous power struggle between complex individuals behind the scenes. There's no better feeling than being called a winner—being recognized as a man who achieved tremendous victory and success. The fierce competitiveness and the frequent sense of disappointing failure that is so inherent in the very essence of sports has produced an abundance of psychologically and ideologically conflicted, twisted men that are battling with intolerable arrogance and blindness. In the case of John du Pont, the feeling of invalidation and complete disrespect beleaguers him through his days, including the sharp disapproval from his own mother (Vanessa Redgrave) who only views wrestling—her son's sole passion—as a lowly sport. As he witnesses the admiration people express towards the actually capable coaches like Dave and the brawny athletes like Mark, he's sort of put in between—in a position where people recognize him as that one lucky, wealthy son of a gun but nothing more.
Through the use of deliberately-timed editing, the constant grapple of jealousy—the lingering sense of betrayal; the sense of unrelenting determination to shine above the others and escape each other's shadows —between these three is realized. The film also paces itself so slowly with countless scenes of dead silence and the absence of a score that would've just easily manipulated our impressions of the people on- screen. It's almost as if Foxcatcher intends to remain as cold and distant from its subjects as possible. Perhaps—gasp—it means to take a more objective perspective of its protagonists (unlike most biopics in recent memory) and allow the final consequences to make its ultimate point.
From scene to scene, we witness the amusing awkwardness of du Pont in the wildly slow intonations and recurrent pauses of his speech. In fact, seeing du Pont's erratic behavior and the uncomfortable homoerotic undertones throughout, there's a hilarious black comedy lingering beneath the surface, to the most deceptive extent where laughter seems wholly out of place once you recognize the sheer bleakness of this material. The history of his childhood—of his fortunate birth into and the inheritance from an insanely rich family, is incredibly fascinating. He was born into money without a single clue how to best use it or what to really do with himself.
Most of all, what I most admire about Foxcatcher is the perfectly uncompromising, dark direction that Miller takes with this tale. The exceptional cinematography makes sure to emphasize the arrant somberness of the fog that encompasses its characters as the chilliness of a colder winter closes in. There's no tenderness to please mass audiences with here; there's only brutal honesty. Using the frustration with the typical cop-out approaches most biopics take nowadays by becoming a little too close to their subjects and portraying them as completely perfect specimens (hello, The Theory of Everything), Foxcatcher never gets scared away from showing just how flawed and disturbed its characters really are—how frightening and enigmatic the mind of a real human being can eventually become. The film takes the advice of du Pont in absolutely exhibiting its confidence and never backing down from depicting tragedy and human nature at its worst. Now, excuse me: I'm going to go read up some more on these peculiar people and the system that brought them together.
With the help of absolutely convincing make-up that shapes the noticeably wicked/large nose and eerie teeth, Carell delivers a powerfully haunting performance as a socially isolated and awkward man, raised in an out-of-touch environment all his life, who is struggling with numerous egoistic and trust issues that endlessly vex him from within. However, this is also Tatum's show as we follow the rise of this naïve meathead (how can I more politely describe him?) who is clearly vulnerable to being essentially puppeteered by exploitive, power-hungry men. It's worth to point out just how Tatum's childlike, innocent personality here infuses us with total pity for his character while Ruffalo's usual warmth makes us sympathize as well. In fact, Ruffalo's performance is most subtle of all; he's obviously not as flamboyant as the other two and is instead relied on to reflect a certain human quality in an otherwise utterly cold picture. Dave Schultz is a big brother who's undoubtedly talented in the sport, but unlike the other two, his pride doesn't get the better of him since he continually seeks to improve his brother on that path to fame and success as well.
Here is where it gets worryingly complicated though because these three personalities develop a paranoid, unreliable dynamic that sees each other vie for that ultimate glory. Foxcatcher thoroughly utilizes the sport of wrestling as not only a point of critique but also as a stark metaphor for this dangerous power struggle between complex individuals behind the scenes. There's no better feeling than being called a winner—being recognized as a man who achieved tremendous victory and success. The fierce competitiveness and the frequent sense of disappointing failure that is so inherent in the very essence of sports has produced an abundance of psychologically and ideologically conflicted, twisted men that are battling with intolerable arrogance and blindness. In the case of John du Pont, the feeling of invalidation and complete disrespect beleaguers him through his days, including the sharp disapproval from his own mother (Vanessa Redgrave) who only views wrestling—her son's sole passion—as a lowly sport. As he witnesses the admiration people express towards the actually capable coaches like Dave and the brawny athletes like Mark, he's sort of put in between—in a position where people recognize him as that one lucky, wealthy son of a gun but nothing more.
Through the use of deliberately-timed editing, the constant grapple of jealousy—the lingering sense of betrayal; the sense of unrelenting determination to shine above the others and escape each other's shadows —between these three is realized. The film also paces itself so slowly with countless scenes of dead silence and the absence of a score that would've just easily manipulated our impressions of the people on- screen. It's almost as if Foxcatcher intends to remain as cold and distant from its subjects as possible. Perhaps—gasp—it means to take a more objective perspective of its protagonists (unlike most biopics in recent memory) and allow the final consequences to make its ultimate point.
From scene to scene, we witness the amusing awkwardness of du Pont in the wildly slow intonations and recurrent pauses of his speech. In fact, seeing du Pont's erratic behavior and the uncomfortable homoerotic undertones throughout, there's a hilarious black comedy lingering beneath the surface, to the most deceptive extent where laughter seems wholly out of place once you recognize the sheer bleakness of this material. The history of his childhood—of his fortunate birth into and the inheritance from an insanely rich family, is incredibly fascinating. He was born into money without a single clue how to best use it or what to really do with himself.
Most of all, what I most admire about Foxcatcher is the perfectly uncompromising, dark direction that Miller takes with this tale. The exceptional cinematography makes sure to emphasize the arrant somberness of the fog that encompasses its characters as the chilliness of a colder winter closes in. There's no tenderness to please mass audiences with here; there's only brutal honesty. Using the frustration with the typical cop-out approaches most biopics take nowadays by becoming a little too close to their subjects and portraying them as completely perfect specimens (hello, The Theory of Everything), Foxcatcher never gets scared away from showing just how flawed and disturbed its characters really are—how frightening and enigmatic the mind of a real human being can eventually become. The film takes the advice of du Pont in absolutely exhibiting its confidence and never backing down from depicting tragedy and human nature at its worst. Now, excuse me: I'm going to go read up some more on these peculiar people and the system that brought them together.