Moneyball is based on a nonfiction bestseller by Michael Lewis, who also wrote
The Blind Side, and I can't think of another example of two books by the same author producing such different movie adaptations. Where
The Blind Side was sunny and can-do,
Moneyball is something deeper and more complicated. Director Bennett Miller, working from a screenplay by Steven Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin, has turned Lewis' book into a messy fable of American inventiveness that benefits greatly from a shot of old-fashioned movie star charm. Billy Beane (Brad Pitt, whose rumpled smile here looks like fatigue as opposed to boyishness) was a hot prospect and a rare "5 tool" player (running, hitting, power, defense, throwing) when he signed with the New York Mets. Beane never turned into a star player; the scouts were wrong, and Miller and Pitt locate part of Beane's desire to change the way the major leagues are built from his own resentment at being overvalued and the cast aside. (Beane could have gone to Stanford on a full scholarship.) Beane becomes general manager of the Oakland A's, and in attempting to rebuild the team after a 2001 playoff loss he begins to embrace a statistics-centered method of player evaluation championed by the writer Bill James and young executive Peter Brand (a composite character played by Jonah Hill). Beane and Brand meet when Beane is unsuccessfully trying to make a trade with Cleveland, and Beane has soon used some of his team's not-unlimited cash supply to secure Brand's services.
The economic inequalities of baseball are the macro-level subject of
Moneyball. The Yankee team that beats the A's in 2001 has almost triple the payroll and it is ever thus: Oakland simply can't come up with the cash to sign top free agents or retain stars demanding big new contracts. Pitt plays Beane as a renegade without an ounce of arrogance; Beane's humility about his own playing career informs everything he does. His A's don't pursue players who are worth a fortune, they rather search for players who are undervalued and can be had cheaply. Players like Scott Hatteberg (Chris Pratt), a castoff catcher that Beane signs to play first base, and submarining relief pitcher Chad Bradford (Casey Bond). Hatteberg's ability to get on base by any means available makes him a prize to Beane and Brand, whose indifference to old methods of evaluation incurs the wrath of the A's scouting department. Miller assembled a chorus of actors as the scouts who convey a great kind of middle-aged cockiness, and Pitt seems to enjoy himself the most when Beane is ignoring their advice. Philip Seymour Hoffman (Oscar winner in Miller's
Capote) is left a little bit at sea as A's manager Art Howe, who exists in the movie only as an obstacle to Beane getting the team he wants on the field. I'm not sure how Jonah Hill ended up in
Moneyball, but I'm not going for a cheap laugh when I say he is punching above his weight. Hill delivers his helping of expository dialogue ably enough, but the performance is too tamped down. It's as if Hill were actively trying to negate his comic persona. A little more zeal would have conveyed Brand's fire for reinventing the game. As
Moneyball progresses through the 2002 season. we're treated to familiar sports tropes like a late-inning home run and a player getting the news that his services aren't required anymore. But the movie is Brad Pitt's show. That smile is as bright as ever, but there's also an early-middle age insecurity that Pitt has never really had to show and a wonderful easy rapport with the young actress (Kerris Dorsey) who plays Beane's daughter. At the end of
Moneyball Beane is offered a chance to become general manager of the Boston Red Sox, where he'd make more money than he'd ever need and have more to work with to woo players. Though the Red Sox pressed hard - Arliss Howard is wonderful as Sox owner John Henry, baseball's new money - Beane turned down the job and is still in Oakland.
Moneyball salutes Beane the individual, but doesn't forget that he's a agnostic in the church of baseball.
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