Fever Pitch

Directed by Peter and Bobby Farrelly
Written by Lowell Ganz, Babaloo Mandel, Nick Hornby (novel)

"Can you name a single thing that's been important to you for 23 years?"
"23 years ago, I was 7."

There’s a scene about halfway through Nick Hornby’s memoir Fever Pitch where Hornby buys a house right next to the Arsenal pitch, thinking this the ultimate tribute to his love for the home team, and naturally assuming that all of his neighbors would be as into Arsenal as he was. He quickly finds out, however, that all of his new neighbors are fairly indifferent to football, and are in fact quite annoyed by their proximity to the field.

In the little-seen (at least in this country - it pops up on IFC every once in a while) first film version of Fever Pitch, however, everyone in the neighborhood is in fact all over Arsenal, and when Arsenal wins the big championship at the end of the movie, all the neighbors bust out of their homes in full team regalia and face paint and have a wild, impromptu party right in the middle of the street. I was always bothered by this, as the neighbors’ complete indifference was a very important, revealing detail in the original story that was subverted for the film entirely - how could such a telling thematic detail be completely upheaved just for the sake of giving the film an easy, sappy, big ending? That Hornby also wrote the screenplay for the film is something that I still find a bit bewildering.

I mention this at the very beginning of my review just so that I won't have to talk about either the book or the first film version of Fever Pitch again - this new version of Fever Pitch bears pretty much no relation to either, other than basic plot outline (woman falls for a sports-obsessed-but-otherwise-nice guy) and yet another dissertation on the archetypal Hornby male (aHm).

Hornby has made a career out of talking about obsession, particularly male obsessions, particularly the many (many many many) ways in which men use their obsessions to fill voids in their lives until the very things which served as their entry into the world, the very things that let them feel a part of something greater than themselves, ironically become the very agents by which they shut others out, not move on, remain in their safety zones, totally excluding the possibility of any meaningful fulfillment in their lives, then falling into deep existential melancholia about the facts that a) their lives are meaningless; b) they feel unfulfilled; c) nobody “gets” them; d) their only moments of fleeting quasi-happiness come from indulging in their obsessions (football, pop music, religion, no-strings sex, “stuff”, what have you); and e) every day, for the rest of their days, will be just as boring and meaningless as today, or yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that, or the day before that. Add to this an overly well-thought-out philosophical and vaguely poetic justification for said obsession, not only in their personal lives but in the “grand scheme” as well, and a deep fixation on personal history, in particular on trying to uncover the very day, the very moment, the very encounter where “everything went wrong”, and there you have it: your archetypal Hornby male.

If you consider yourself an aHm (regardless of your own gender – I know probably just as many women who fit the mold as men), watching Fever Pitch will probably just depress you because a) Jimmy Fallon is much cuter and funnier than you are, and b) Drew Barrymore is much cuter and smarter than anyone who will ever love you (and even if they were, they still wouldn’t really “get” you, and your life is meaningless, and you will still feel completely unfulfilled, and every day, for the rest of your days, will be just as boring and meaningless as today, or yesterday, or the day before – that is, until the next game, the next party, the next big DVD release day, the next new episode of Lost, what have you).

If you, however, find yourself falling for someone who is an aHm, you should, early on and often, ask the aHm two questions: a) Do you expect me to be as into (Star Trek, Lenny Kravitz, hockey, metasyntactic variables, what have you) as you are; and b) Would it be an actual problem if I was not as into (comic books, 70s r&b, Halo 2, complete sexual independence, what have you) as you are. There actually exists a subset of the aHm who really doesn’t mind if you don’t share in, or even understand, their obsession, just so long as you do not interfere with said obsession, and never, ever make the comment, “But it’s only a (dog, pair of shoes, first edition JM Barrie, OOP VHTF MOMC Obi-Wan Kenobi with vinyl cape, what have you)!”

One gets the sense that Jimmy Fallon's Ben (nice, normal guy six months out of the year, nice “normal” guy the remaining six months out of the year) would probably have told Drew's Lindsey (stressed-out workaholic who doesn’t even realize that she wants to meet a nice, normal guy until she meets him) that no, he wouldn’t really mind that she does not share his obsession (baseball, especially as played by the Boston Red Sox). Fallon doesn’t seem obsessed so much as overly enthusiastic. You would believe that John Cusak and Hugh Grant, who have played perfect aHms in the past, truly would have removed anyone from their lives who stood between them and their respective obsessions. Fallon, by virtue of his winsome cuteness, can’t quite take the pivotal you-made-me-miss-the-big-game scene to the insanely pathetic depths for which it calls, even after Lindsey utters those four words that she should, absolutely under no circumstances, but especially this one, ever, ever say: “It’s only a game.”

(By the way, if you know what “OOP VHTF MOMC” means, you just may be an aHm.)

The Farrelly Brothers seem to be following in the footsteps of the Weitz Brothers, trying to transition from youth-centric grossouts to semi-serious comedies adapting Nick Hornby. Unlike the Weitzes (and their very excellent About a Boy), however, the Farrellys are not so quick to let go of their past formulas, subjecting us to early scenes of vomit humor and work-out shenanigans, and at one point a dog gets his teeth brushed by what appears to be one of those overpriced Sonicare toothbrushes they sell on television – I don’t know what I find more disturbing, that Ben is using Lindsey’s toothbrush to brush her dog’s teeth, or that Lindsey has in fact purchased an expensive toothbrush from the television specifically for her dog, and has set it up in her bathroom with a label clearly indicating as such.

Fever Pitch is certainly not a bad film, it just doesn’t add to the discussion, or even really inspire one. It’s a cute, but largely forgettable, affair with a few moments of honesty which too-infrequently hit home. You’re definitely better served waiting for the video. But since you’re going to the store anyway, pick up High Fidelity and About a Boy as well, both of which you will probably enjoy more.

The ending of the movie had to be reshot in order to fit into the events of Boston’s momentous 2004 post-season. Presumably, the film would have originally ended on a bit of a downer. Strange how reality can sometimes out-Hollywood Hollywood, i’n’it?