ROOKIE OF THE YEAR
A film review by James Berardinelli
Copyright 1993 James Berardinelli
Rating: 2.7 out of 10 (F, * out of ****)
Date Released: 7/7/93 Running Length: 1:45 Rated: PG (Nothing offensive)
Starring: Thomas Ian Nicholas, Gary Busey, Amy Morton, Dan Hedaya,
John Candy
Director: Daniel Stern
Producer: Robert Harper
Screenplay: Sam Harper
Music: Bill Conti
Released by Twentieth-Century Fox
Henry Rowengartner (Thomas Ian Nicholas) is a poor Little League player who can throw strikes (not very hard), but has trouble catching the ball. Then one day, while trying to impress a girl at school, he has an accident trying to prove that he doesn't drop every fly that comes his way. His arm ends up in a cast for most of the summer, but when the doctor finally takes it off, Henry discovers a remarkable thing. Because of "tight tendons" in his right arm, he can somehow throw a ball in excess of 100 miles per hour. It doesn't take long for the Cubs to give the twelve-year-old a tryout, then sign him up (how desperate is this team?) It's a move that pays off because, after a rocky debut, Henry becomes the catalyst that leads the team into a Pennant Race.
Before I do the written equivalent of tearing this film into shreds and dumping the remains where they belong, I'll be honest enough to admit that boys around the age of ten seemed to enjoy ROOKIE OF THE YEAR very much. The movie is clean enough to be considered a family film, although I doubt many of the bored girls and disinterested parents in the audience would endorse it. Personally, I think that family films should be enjoyable for everyone in the family, not just a select sex/age group. There are movies available that meet this criteria (ALADDIN, THE SANDLOT, and A FAR OFF PLACE, to name a few). Unfortunately, their number is dwindling as they are replaced with dim-witted, poorly-conceived dross like this picture.
As the title suggests, ROOKIE OF THE YEAR aspires to be a baseball movie. In this, it fails in almost every respect. Fans of the game will be horrified by the lack of attention paid to the nuances and subtleties of baseball, while those who don't like "America's pastime" will probably find this film uninspiring, unimaginative, and uninteresting (all of which it certainly is).
A gargantuan misstep is that ROOKIE OF THE YEAR tries a few stabs at drama while its outrageous setup allows only for the most absurd of comedies. Maybe the Monty Python troupe could have done something with the premise, but it's way beyond Daniel Stern's meager abilities. As an actor, Stern has a flair for comedy (as showcased in HOME ALONE and CITY SLICKERS), but as a director (at least from the evidence we're given here), he is inept. Unfortunately, as far as this movie is concerned, Daniel the actor doesn't do much better than Daniel the director. His character, that of a wacky pitching coached who got beaned once too often, is easily the most potentially-amusing member of the Cubs, but Stern tries too hard for laughs and ends up getting little more than grimaces.
This movie is bad even as a fantasy for Cubs lovers and Mets haters. There's not enough substance here to give meaning to the "big game" between the two clubs. Added to that, the Mets are portrayed as such a ridiculously over-the-top gang of thugs and losers that it's impossible to hate them. Besides, given the team's current woeful brand of real baseball, setting this team up as the heavy is a huge mistake. No one despises New York's National League team any more (except perhaps their own fans)--they're too woeful for that.
ROOKIE OF THE YEAR presents a perfect opportunity for a line of cameos by current and ex-Major League players. However, with the exception of fleeting glances of Bobby Bonilla, Pedro Guererro, and Barry Bonds (in a Pirates uniform--oops), there's nothing. No members of the real Cubs are around, and play-by-play announcer Harry Carry is conspicuous by his absence. Personally, I can't stand the man, but in a film so indulgent of Wrigley Field fantasies, the omission of Carry is profoundly felt. Instead, all we get is an embarrassingly silly John Candy doing his best Harry imitation--and a pale one it is, at that.
This is a genuinely insulting movie. It takes every formula and cliche and binds them together into a package that doesn't work. Things might have been better if the director and screenwriter had shown a hint of aptitude, but nothing like that is forthcoming. Most baseball films, even the best of them, are formula-driven. Robert Redford hitting a home run in the bottom of the ninth is pure fantasy, not to mention absolutely predictable, but it's still a great movie moment. ROOKIE OF THE YEAR lacks this kind of style, and its comedy is so daft that it can't compete with the likes of MAJOR LEAGUE (which was, at best, a mediocre film).
Of course, the characters are stock, and the actors aren't able to do anything with them. Amy Morton, playing Henry's mom, overacts outrageously. Thomas Ian Nicholas, in the title role, manages to make his character as annoying and unpleasant as possible. I'm sure I'm not the only one who wished someone would plunk that kid when he was dancing off first base and making fun of the Dodgers' pitcher.
Outperforming every one is Gary Busey, but his is a thankless job. He puts an effort into bringing to the surface several facets of what is essentially a two-dimensional character, but there's not much that Busey can do to save Chet Steadman. However, a purpose served by the presence of Busey is to give a yardstick by which the lackluster performances of the rest of the cast can be measured. Opposite him, none of them look good.
If you're a ten-year-old boy who wants to vicariously live out the fantasy of playing for a big-league ball club, this might be a movie worth seeing, but for anyone else, it represents a blunder as big as a hanging curve ball. In baseball, you get three strikes and you're out, but in the making of ROOKIE OF THE YEAR, Daniel Stern has gotten far more than that. Nearly the only good thing about this film is that I saw it in an air-conditioned theater on a day when the thermometer had nudged above the 100 degree mark. Nevertheless, half-way through the movie, the heat outside was starting to look good.
- James Berardinelli (blake7@cc.bellcore.com)
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