The Oberlin Review
<< Front page News October 1, 2004

Take your chances buying a ticket for Mr. 3000

The sports film is probably the easiest genre there is. It’s the kind of film you give to directors you have almost zero-faith in; the film you give to a director you hired because he was someone’s cousin. It’s the easiest and most formulaic kind of film out there. So if you mess up a sports film, it’s time to return that DGA card and perhaps try producing or running a studio. Look for director Charles Stone III to be running a major company soon, because Mr. 3000 has to be one of the worst sports films I’ve seen in quite some time.

The story follows Stan Ross, a self-centered baseball player who desperately wants to get into the Hall of Fame. During his baseball career he had 3000 hits; after the 3000th hit, he quit baseball and retired to a cushy lifestyle. As it turns out, three of his hits didn’t count because of a clerical error in the recording and now a 47-year-old Ross has to come out of retirement to re-earn his record.

The stage is set for Ross to learn a lesson, have some laughs because he’s so out of shape and interact with quirky teammates —or so you’d think. Actually, he only learns his lesson because he gets sad about people disliking him (not because he feels guilty about hurting other people), he gets back in shape through the beauty of montage, and the quirkiest teammates he has are two guys that are always betting on stuff for some reason. This is an underhanded pitch, and somehow the writers and director still manage to strike out (it’s a review of a baseball movie and I’m weak-willed; sue me).

Thank God for Bernie Mac. Mac has repeatedly proven himself a source of vitality and energy and that strength has never been more necessary than in a weak vehicle like this. It’s just a shame that this film doesn’t know how to use him. Mac, being a comedian, has excellent comic timing and word cadence, but the film is too busy coming up with weak goals for the characters to achieve to take advantage of his talent. When I say “weak goals,” I mean that the big goal of the team is to finish in third place. Yep, that sure is uplifting. Granted, it’s set up that way so that Ross has a deadline for getting his three hits, but there’s no reason why the team couldn’t have gone all the way to the World Series.

Ross’ last hit is also one of the few things the film gets right. I won’t spoil how they do it, although I should, because there’s really not much reason to see this film but it does redeem the film somewhat in terms of message. It’s just a shame that the other 90 minutes are so poorly done.

If you want to go out and see a film about an aging sports star with one last shot at glory, check out Wimbledon instead. It’s a superior film in just about every conceivable way. If you’re looking for someone to retile your bathroom, talk to Charles Stone III. He can’t do a much worse job than what he did here.
 
 

   

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