The Boys in the Boat is Capable, but Uninspiring
An acknowledgment: I’ve lived in Seattle for a decade. That’s nearly long enough to be considered a local by everyone except the actual locals. It’s precisely in that time that Daniel James Brown The Boys in the Boat became a nonfiction phenomenon, at least here. Seattleites went wild for the tale of the University of Washington rowing team that went from untested to winning the gold medal at the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. Everyone read it and everyone was talking about it.
A confession: I’m a bad Seattleite. I have not read The Boys in the Boat, much to the chagrin of everyone who has asked (which, to count, is too many people).
Therefore, I cannot speak to how faithfully George Clooney’s film adapts Brown’s book or how true to the actual history the movie is. But I can consider how skillfully Clooney tells this story (with staid capability) and how much creativity he brings to the film (starkly little).
Clooney’s adaptation centers the story on Joe Rantz (Callum Turner), a young student at the University of Washington whose status at the school is threatened due to his inability to pay tuition. It’s the 30s, and the Great Depression has hit this corner of the country just as hard as anywhere else. Joe’s mom died when he was young; his father remarried and moved when Joe was an adolescent, abandoning the teenager to figure out life on his own. When he finishes with classes, Joe looks for a free meal and returns to the Hooverville he sleeps in.
In need of a job that will pay for his tuition, Rantz hears that making the university’s crew comes with cash—and a free bed. The only thing standing in his way is the many other dozens of boys striving for the same spot. Less than ten will be chosen. The boys are put through a strenuous regime by coach Al Ulbrickson (Joel Edgerton), weeding them out gradually. Of course it comes as no surprise when Rantz is selected. We know how these stories go, and Clooney has (even by this point) loaded the film with signifiers of the victorious underdog.
The Boys in the Boat presents a typical sports film story, and Clooney leans into it, making little effort to break from expectations. The ramshackle crew will learn to let go of their need to prove their strength and will subsume their individual strife within the collective. They find harmony; they unexpectedly best a much more experienced team; they supplant the varsity team; they contend with the heralded East Coast teams; and they make their way to an uneasy Berlin in the throes of Nazi power.
Clooney foregrounds the financial fragility of the team, particularly as compared to the prestigious Ivy Leaguers and old money Easterners. He also weights the Olympic scenes with ominous symbols of Nazi flags and salutes, but these don’t serve a moral tension, merely a competitive one. Clooney’s intent is narrower than all that, hewing closely to underdog narratives. In this regard, the predictability of The Boys in the Boat is its virtue. Clooney isn’t aiming to pull back emotional layers or create a more insightful critique of the nation of that era. This is simply a straightforward tale of sporting perseverance.
Judged on that basis, it’s a capable enough film. Clooney’s direction is sharp, and he clearly enjoys outfitting the period playground of the 1930s. Unfortunately, rowing isn’t the most cinematic of sports. Other sports boast varieties of plays, the randomness of events, and direct contact that adds visual and narrative complexity when the actual competition is occurring. Rowing by nature isolates the teams, and success requires the same repetitive motion. It’s a heavy blow that the races can’t match the visual tension of The Social Network’s regatta; the only innovation Clooney employs is an aerial shot that emphasizes the positions of each boat, but he relies on it far too frequently to maintain its interest.
The performances are scattershot. Turner is decent as Rantz, but he remains a bit of a blank slate. Edgerton is stoic to the point of apathy, a faint ghost of Hackman’s coach in Hoosiers. The best performances aren’t in the central spotlight. Luke Slattery’s coxswain gives much needed energy to the crew, providing the spark that the coach lacks. Chris Diamantopoulos has tremendous fun as the regatta announcer (historical Seattle figure and all-time name Royal Brougham).
The Boys in the Boat is a competent, albeit uninspiring film. Clooney restrains any grander or innovative impulses, opting to tell this story predictably. It’s a fair choice, but he bookends the movie with a silly note of sentimentality in a story that already has plenty. The most fun moments were the patently Seattle ones: seeing Smith Tower’s silhouette, hearing a character pronounce Sequim correctly. Of course, I realize that’s damning praise.
