It’s actually a very good movie. Only two tiny anachronisms that only a serious horse psycho who lived through the seventies would catch. The characters are accurately depicted, though the jerk-ness of Penny Chenery’s husband is only lightly touched upon, and the film does not display the kind of language and interactions that are typical at racetracks. The horse is not Disney-fied—that is, it doesn’t talk, have ESP, fly, or run to please its owner; it’s just a horse, although one of the three most magnificent horses to have lived in the past 300 years.
The story does have a slightly feminist bent to it, but an accurate one, since Penny Chenery did face great difficulty in running a stud farm and racing stable back then; we tend to forget how tough it was for women in a position like that, in a male-dominated industry, back then. There’s no political ax to grind, though, and Wallace doesn’t beat you over the head with it.
The cinematography is gorgeous and evokes the overwhelming, addictive beauty of the world of horses. It’s exciting even if you know how each race played out.
Heartily recommended. It’s horrible to consider that there are people so twisted that they can be unmoved by this beauty and grace.
...and I can't help thinking that "Secretariat" is meant as a comforting allegory, like Glenn Beck's sentimental Christmas yarn: The real America has been here all along, and we can get it back.
Yes, Andy, the real America really has been here all along, and we really can get it back. Now go play quietly while the adults clean up the mess you've made.
In reality, horse racing was one aspect of American life which had a long history of women owning big-time stables. Many top stables, going w-a-a-y back. It was quite accepted. Elizabeth Arden. Mrs. John Hertz. I love the old 30s and 40s photos of dressed-to-kill women leading their winning steeds to the winner's circle.