HARRISON FORD’S CURVEBALL
ACTOR THROWS HIMSELF INTO BASEBALL BIOPIC
LOS ANGELES — A crafty Harrison Ford continues to question any answers pundits might have about his possible Han Solo involvement in the recently announced Star Wars movie reboot.
He’s just as obscure and oblique when the subject of a fifth Indiana Jones adventure is mentioned.
Based on assorted grrrs and grimaces, the unofficial translation went something like this; another Indiana Jones isn’t likely so the Han Solo resurrection might be our only hope.
Ford was much more enthusiastic about discussing his decision to play baseball executive Branch Rickey in the Jackie Robinson film called 42, which is in honour of the player’s number.
Opening April 12, the biopic covers the 1947 pivotal event when Robinson (Chadwick Boseman) finally breaks the race barrier in segregated Major League Baseball after signing a Brooklyn Dodgers contract offered by Rickey (Ford).
It led the way for African-American athletes in all major league American sports, and signalled the unofficial beginning of the civil rights movement in the U. S.
However, the breakthrough didn’t come easily as the Brian Helgeland-directed movie details with on-thefield and behind-the-scenes action.
Slurs and threats followed Robinson that season, but with Rickey’s support they survived the historic time.
Indeed, the essence of 42 is what inspired Ford to get involved in the sports movie, which is modest in its production but purposeful in its intent.
Still, Ford, at 70, couldn’t resist a playful joke on himself as he pretended to explain to reporters his motivation.
“He was 65 years of age at the time of the telling of the story,” said a smirking Ford referring to Rickey. “That gave me the opportunity to play a younger man, and that’s not going to happen a lot anymore.”
The self-inflicted jibe was about as jocular as he would get, but fair enough. The subject was serious business and so was the actor.
Indeed, his portrayal, by necessity, required Ford to wear lots of makeup, prosthetics and a fat suit while adopting a stylized accent to define the loquacious, cigarchomping Rickey.
The adornments served another purpose, which the actor and the director felt were critical.
“I didn’t want the audience going into the film thinking they knew me from some previous film, and I knew that was Brian’s ambition, as well,” noted Ford.
They both understood that the Robinson story was too important for distractions. In fact, Ford dedicated himself to researching the period as well as delving into the relationship between Rickey and Robinson.
He also managed to track down some archival footage of Rickey, which underscored his larger-than-life presence and his commanding and distinctive voice. “I came to the script with very little knowledge of the history of baseball,” said Ford. “There was more audiotape than visual, and I had some photographs, so it was a real study for me.”
He’s not kidding. He grew up in Chicago in the 1940s and ’50s but didn’t have much experience with Little League or professional baseball, although he did go to a White Sox game once with his parents.
“I remember Wrigley Field more than the game,” recalled Ford. “I still have a vivid image of that square of improbable grass in the middle of the city.”
When the family moved to the suburbs, “I played maybe one-andhalf games of Little League and the whole atmosphere of anxious parents and more anxious children was too much for me.”
So, after researching the Robinson-Rickey story, Ford confessed that he was astounded by their commitment and impressed with Helgeland’s screenplay and its single-minded dedication.
“The movie makes for a visceral history,” Ford said.
“We see and hear the story rather than have (the characters) talk about it and Brian did that.”
In other words, 42 shows racism at work.
“This is the truth of it and the undeniable evil of it.”
The heaviness of the topic of the movie was in stark contrast to the easygoing filming, however.
That was especially true for the important scenes between Robinson and Rickey; first when they make their Dodgers deal and later in the year when things get tough for the only African-American in the league.
Baseman, 31, was a journeyman actor before he landed the Robinson part.
He was, initially, apprehensive about acting opposite the iconic Ford.
He got over the intimidation because he needed to, and, he said, because Ford made the collaboration on set seamless with his friendliness and his team-player attitude.
“He was amazing,” said Boseman of his relationship with the actor on and off screen. “I cherish the experience.”
Maybe Ford can relate to Boseman, who was previously slowly building his career with TV guest appearances and co-starring movie roles.
Ford took more than a decade to make it in the movie industry, too. His film debut arrived unceremoniously with a bellhop part in 1966’s Dead Heat on a Merry-GoRound.
That was 11 years before Han Solo and Star Wars changed everything for him.
“I was an overnight success,” said a smiling Ford before getting serious again. “It’s surreal. The only ambition I ever had was committing to be an actor and live my life.”