At the movies with Dan Slevin

OK, so here’s how this is supposed to work. I watch a whole lot of films, give you a hopefully spoiler-free rundown of what they’re about, offer you my impressions and then - based on what you’ve read of me in the past - you can decide whether to drop some folding on a night at the pictures, wait for a DVD to come out or (if you are a student with no morals) download something to not watch later.
Now, my taste just so happens to be impeccable so you could do a lot worse than follow my every recommendation but this week I totally surprised myself and I’d be fascinated to see if many of you respond in quite the same way.
Secretariat was a racehorse - a very successful racehorse. In 1973 it was the first horse for 25 years to win the Triple Crown (the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness and the Belmont) and is widely acknowledged to be the finest Thoroughbred that ever lived. I know next to nothing about racing - and could care even less - and yet I watched Randall Wallace’s biopic of the horse with tears in my eyes from start to finish. I adored it.
It’s the execution that sets Secretariat head and shoulders above other rags-to-riches, redemption and triumph-over-adversity stories. Secretariat was born into a virtually bankrupt Virginia stable in 1969. The toss of a coin decided his fate and everyone thought owner Penny Chenery (Diane Lane) had drawn a dud. His lineage suggested he would have fast pace but no staying power - Chenery thought otherwise.
But to prove her instincts about the horse were correct she had to find a trainer (delightful John Malkovich) and a jockey (real life professional Otto Thorwarth) and overcome the resistance of her own family.
After Secretariat died in 1989 vets discovered that (like Phar Lap) his heart was twice as big as other horses and that’s what gave him his remarkable staying power. I could say the same about Secretariat the film, too - its got a heart twice as big as your average film.
Also this week, returning from the Festival, is Gainsbourg a French biography of their iconoclastic pop hero of the 60s, 70s and 80s. Serge Gainsbourg was an enigma and the film, directed by cartoonist and animator Joann Sfar, does an intriguing job of opening up the drunken old rogue’s psychology but fails to make him very likeable and it ends like the final reel has been left behind somewhere.
At his 1991 funeral, President-at-the-time Mitterand said, “He was our Baudelaire, our Apollinaire… He elevated the song to the level of art.” The biggest failing of Gainsbourg the film, it seems to me, is that it fails to justify that musical judgement. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing, but I was expecting to like the songs more.