“It ain’t the same any more,” ruefully intones aging jockey Jackson Silva, but that’s a lie. Horse racing is exactly the same as it’s always been, but, in gorgeous and tender workplace drama Jockey, it’s Jackson who has changed.
As played with gentle gruffness by Collins Jr., Jackson’s done. He knows it, even before some aspirational new rider, Gabriel (Arias), arrives on the track with a life-derailing story about an old hookup from back in Jackson’s oat-sowing days on the circuit. He knows it before trainer Ruth (Parker) knows, even as they flirt like old friends. He even knows it before the track vet tells him that his body is so shot that he needs to go see a real doctor. He’s not washed up but his tide is out forever. None of that means he’s not going to be bitter about it, or try to eke out one last win before he can’t even get in the saddle.
Inspired by the experiences of director Clint Bentley (who co-wrote with his Transpecos creative partner Greg Kwedar) from growing up on the racing circuit, Jockey sweats authenticity from every dust-impacted pore. On the surface, it’s a lot of tropes we’ve seen in sporting dramas. But tropes are like bricks: It all depends how you put them together, and what Bentley and Collins construct has the raw beauty of sturdiness. It doesn’t need to be spectacular, because it’s so quietly perfect. There’s nothing glamorous, but the insight into the world of racing as lived by men like Jackson is beautifully captured. Bentley’s decision to fill the cast with actual jockeys from this lower tier of tracks, talking about their real-life experiences, adds authenticity, but it’s Collins who sits seamlessly within their world. Actors dropped into these semi-improvised environments often feel like they’re performing, like they’re too big for the moment. Yet Collins brings his decades as a supporting actor to keep Jackson within the scene while still feeling like a leading man. When he and Parker stand in front of a horse and talk in industry code, it’s as convincing as the scenes with real racers talking about their addiction issues, or how many times they’ve broken their backs.
Any workplace drama (and that’s what it is, more than a sports film) must fit you for the shoes of the laborer, and that’s exactly what Jockey does. It makes you understand why riders would subject themselves to so much pain and poverty in search of what one calls “that one minute where you feel like the most important thing in the world.” But that may not cover it for Jackson. When the camera lingers on his face when he’s on the track, there’s a transformation to pure joy. Indeed, those moments are transformative for the whole film: Cinematographer Adolpho Veloso captures everything else in magic hour glows, or by the warm flicker of post-race fires where riders share war stories and tequila. But those race moments are murky, with sod and sand flying up in Jackson’s goggles. The world becomes tiny, grimy, flat, and so glorious that you’ll understand why Jackson wants to live a little longer in the saddle.
Read our interview with writer/director Clint Bentley, “Family History Gives Clifton Collins Jr. the Role of a Lifetime in Jockey,” Oct. 22, 2021.
This article appears in February 11 • 2022.
