Sports fans might stay away from this Jimmy Fallon-Drew Barrymore romantic comedy. That would be a shame.
It's something of a minor miracle that Fever Pitch is as good as it is. Directed by the way-past-their-prime Farrelly brothers and starring Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore, Fever Pitch could have easily been a mess — a middling, awkward mesh of two distinct genres, the sports movie and romantic comedy. Fortunately, after several duds, the Farrelly brothers, native New Englanders and Red Sox fans, have found redemption in this loose adaptation of a Nick Hornby book that is obviously close to their heart.
Fever Pitch is the type of movie that has to be made by filmmakers who have an inherent love of the game. Just like you can't fake hitting a curve ball, you can't fake passion onscreen and the Farrellys obviously love their Sox. This passion gets the movie through its bumpy patches, which are plentiful, and helps sell the movie to hardened fans who just can't stomach the thought of paying 10 bucks to sit through a Drew Barrymore romantic comedy.
Aside from being funny and warm, Fever Pitch portrays the mentality of a hardcore sports fan as well as any movie I can remember, giving our psychosis a pretty good spokesperson in Jimmy Fallon.
Fallon plays Ben, a diehard Red Sox fan who has loved the team ever since his Uncle Carl took him to Fenway when he was 11. The filmmakers and Fallon could have easily overplayed Ben, making him a ranting, raving retard who is so over the top with his devotion that the audience can't relate. On the other hand, they also avoid the very common trap of neutering Ben, making him so focus-group friendly that he loses all his edge and becomes utterly forgettable.
Fortunately, the filmmakers and Fallon play Ben straight down the middle. Like most passionate sports fans, Ben is a ranting, raving retard in the stadium and a functioning human being outside it.
Well, sort of. Ben, a ninth grade math teacher, is an overgrown kid who is far more comfortable roughhousing with his students than socializing with his fellow teachers. His apartment is every 12-year-old Red Sox fan's dream — every nook is crammed with some sort of memorabilia, every room a shrine to the former kings of futility.
The film's tension, of course, lies in Ben's budding relationship with Drew Barrymore's Lindsey, a "type A" career woman who could use a dose of Ben's childlike enthusiasm. Since their courtship begins in the offseason, Ben is able to hide his dark secret. Once spring rolls around, though, the true extent of Ben's obsession becomes clearer to Lindsey when he turns down an invitation to meet her parents at a family reunion in order to attend spring training in Florida.
A bad movie would have simplified the scene by making Barrymore stomp away from defiant Ben, hysterical that he would dare blow off this special weekend for an exhibition baseball game. I was shocked (perhaps trained by the dreadful state of most recent romantic comedies to expect the worst) that the movie got the scene right. Instead of devolving into a screaming match and the inevitable Diane Warren montage, the Farrelly brothers and screenwriters Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel have a curious, not upset, Lindsey ask Ben why he would travel all the way to Florida to watch a bunch of meaningless exhibition games.
"Well, we go down there to scout the team, see which players they should keep and which ones they should get rid of," Ben explains. Excited by the idea that her boyfriend might actually have some say in the team, Lindsey asks, "So they ask for your opinion?" Well, no, Ben responds ...
It's a great scene, highlighting one of the biggest questions every (thinking) sports fan asks himself after a painful loss or a heavy drinking binge: Why do I care so much?
It's a question Ben is confronted with again and again as his relationship with Lindsey becomes more serious and the games more frequent. Lindsey, who learns to love the game — within reason — becomes justifiably angry when Ben blows off a trip to Paris with her for the Yankee series. Later, while drowning his sorrows with some buddies after a particularly brutal loss, Ben sees Johnny Damon eating in the VIP section with other Red Sox teammates, laughing it up, unfazed by the loss.
"Why aren't they miserable?" one of Ben's buddy's asks and it's a good question. Why do fans invest so much time, money, and devotion to a bunch of spoiled, overpaid millionaires who can retreat to their mansions after a tough loss?
Ben wonders why himself, but ultimately knows the answer. "It's about believing in something bigger than yourself ... something you can't control." It's not for me to say whether Barrymore's character ultimately buys into Ben's religion, but if anything, his speech should help convince skeptical wives or girlfriends why it's okay for their man to act like an idiot watching grown men play a game — reason enough for any sports fan to see it. The guys in the audience, for their part, should listen to what Lindsey has to say about devotion and where our priorities should always be, no matter how big the game.
That said, Fever Pitch is by no means a perfect movie. The first 20 minutes are pretty awful — flat, awkward, and poorly directed. (It almost feels like the Farrely brothers are so uncomfortable directing scenes that don't involve Ben Stiller's balls getting caught in his zipper that they gag.)
The opening scenes also feature one of the most egregious forms of product placement I've ever seen when Barrymore gives a speech extolling the virtues of Marquis Jet, some kind of private jet company only .000009 percent of the viewing audience will actually be able to afford to use. The spot is so transparent and offensive I wanted to run out of the theater and wash my ears out with soap.
There are also lapses in logic, such as the fact that Ben hasn't missed a home game in 11 years — yet works as a schoolteacher. Either Ben works in the greatest school on earth and only works from late October to March or the filmmakers were too lazy to provide an explanation. They also blow a fantastic opportunity for Lindsey to see Ben's apartment for the first time — instead she only lamely mentions it in passing.
For every bonehead move like this, though, the film gets other, trickier scenes right, such as the moment where Ben meets Lindsey's posh friends for the first time. Instead of belittling "School Teacher Ben," like most typically crappy Hollywood movies would do, Lindsey's male friends instantly bond with Ben as soon as they find out about his season tickets. They could care less that he makes under 100-grand-a-year or drives a crummy car, he has dugout season tickets, a true mark of status in sports-crazy Boston. It is a small, subtle touch that speaks to the knowledge and respect the Farrelly brothers have toward their subject.
Again, Fever Pitch is by no means a great movie but it is entertaining, knows sports, and has its heart in the right place. It treats both Ben and Lindsey with respect and gives equal time to both their point of views. I walked out of the theater with a warm, happy feeling, almost like how I feel walking out of the Coliseum after a USC victory. Which got me thinking: Thank god my drug of choice is college football — it only consumes 13 days out of the year. Life cannot be easy for the Bens of this world who have 182-plus days to suffer through. Fever Pitch helps us understand their plight.
