Cast: Albert Brooks, Brendan Fraser, Dianne Wiest, Lane Smith
Director: Michael Ritchie
Producers: Albert S. Ruddy and Andre E. Morgan
Screenplay: Andrew Bergman, Albert Brooks, and Monica Johnson
Cinematography: Laszlo Kovacs
Music: Bill Conti
U.S. Distributor: Twentieth Century Fox
It's been a long time since there's been a good baseball movie. The Scout makes you wonder if there's ever going to be one again.
Most recent baseball films have been constructed around the overused tactic of placing a losing team on the field then having some extraordinary event catalyze their transformation into a sudden winner. The Scout, to its credit, tries something a little different -- unfortunately, it doesn't work. So, in addition to the expected big, heroic ending, the film combines unfunny humor and dreary melodrama into a mix that boasts few redeeming qualities. And, on top of all that, it belabors an obvious and forced King Kong metaphor.
Al Percolo (Albert Brooks) is a New York Yankees scout known for signing head cases. When his latest big prospect flops spectacularly in his major league debut, Percolo is exiled to Mexico. There, while scouring loosely-organized leagues, he comes upon pitcher Steve Nebraska (Brendan Fraser), the phenom of all time with a 110 mph fastball and more power than Babe Ruth. Percolo can hardly avoid drooling as he gets Steve to agree to return to the States with him, but it soon turns out that this newest player fits right in with the scout's earlier discoveries, as a psychiatrist (Dianne Wiest) is willing to attest.
Either this script was poorly written, or huge chunks of the film have been carved out. Steve's therapy scenes with Dr. Aaron are supposed to be one of the key elements of The Scout, yet we don't see any of them. How are the young man's inner conflicts supposed to have meaning for an audience if all we get is a throwaway explanation about a history of child abuse? Is the film frightened of showing potentially-real drama?
This is all part of a larger fundamental problem: poor (actually non-existent) character development. Albert Brooks' Percolo is nothing more than a loud-mouthed, wisecracking opportunist motivated by greed. We don't see much in the way of humanity from him even when he's playing father figure to his budding star.
Nebraska is much worse: shallow, effete, and annoying. He does a lot of whining and shouting, but little else. The attempt to add a dramatic undercurrent to the character's composition falls flat. Fraser plays the role like a poorly-acted cross between Terry O'Quinn's Stepfather and Tom Hanks' Forrest Gump.
Despite the total lack of believability that pervades the film's baseball sequences, there are a lot of famous faces present: George Steinbrenner, Bob Costas, Tim McCarver, Bob Tewksberry, Ozzie Smith, Keith Hernandez, and Bret Saberhagen (to name a few). Unlike some other recent movies, this one at least doesn't avoid the game's real faces (too bad the World Series simulated here has been negated by the 1994 strike).
Regardless of what vantage point you view The Scout from, it's a failure. The initial concept might have held some promise, but it was mishandled. Even a solid performance by the reliable Brooks can't rescue this movie. Like a curve ball that doesn't break, this one comes across the plate flat and ready to be pulverized.
© 1994 James Berardinelli