Bennett Miller's third feature film concerns the true life story of billionaire John E. Du Pont, who murdered Olympic champion wrestler Dave Schultz
in 1996. A classy; bleak; and utterly gripping portrait which boasts a
remarkably off type- although still quite funny- performance from Steve Carell.
Channing Tatum play's Dave's younger brother Mark, a gold medal
wrestler himself who has always struggled to escape his older sibling's shadow. He's in between
championships, training daily and struggling to get by. One day he receives an
invitation from John Du Pont (Carell in prosthetic nose and mumbling tone)to
meet him on his family's Foxcatcher farm where the athlete is offered a cozy
new set of affairs if he is willing to train for the Foxcatcher team. Du Pont
speaks in American hyperbole, seducing his prize with talk of heroism,
patriotism and all that bag. At first the billionaire hopes to lure both brothers
to the team but, when told Dave can't be bought, settles instead for Mark.
Du Pont fancies himself as some sort of sporting leader but he's a full blooded charlatan (not to mention an out of shape one too). He's no
sort of couch at all in fact but still the two unloved characters form a bond. It almost boarders
on Behind the Candelabra at times- confined to each other's company; Schultz slowly losing his way to drugs and
booze- that is until Du Pont's mother dearest (a reliably disapproving Vanessa Redgrave) arrives on the screen and the wayward son's intentions become immediately clear. DuPont blows a fuse and, with new-found
determination, lures Dave to the team too. Shit promptly connects with fan.
With Capote and Moneyball already in the bag, Foxcatcher represents an almost eye watering hat trick of debut
films (not to mention snappy one-word titles) for the director. Miller picks his true life subjects with a stiletto sharp intelligence, always
with great fascination, never afraid to wade into the darker recesses of
the American psyche. Foxcatcher is a
fine meditation on ruthless competitiveness, but more acutely of the mind of its beta male killer. As the trailers have suggested, Steve Carell is a revelation in the
role. Playing against type to the Nth degree, his pitiful brat billionaire is a
frightening and pitiable creation and a sure game changer for the affable star.
Perhaps most interesting is how Miller decides to use his story’s focal
moment. Every synopsis leading up to this release has been quick to mention Du Pont's crime and the knowing alone is profoundly powerful, not least in the scenes between Du Pont and Mark Ruffalo's Dave. The results are bleak,
incredibly tense and really quite brilliant. Will it start a conversation on audience obsession with spoilers? We doubt it, but perhaps it’s time we do.
We feel we’ll be mulling this one over for days. It's safe to presume that awards for Carell will follow, although with Spall’s J.M.W. Turner in the race, perhaps they won't start here. Whatever
the case, the Monday sky hangs fittingly bleak over the Croisette today...
