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5.5/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 5.5/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. That's My Boy remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have a thing for black-and-white sports dramas from the early 1930s, you will probably dig this. If you need modern pacing or an actual, complex script, look elsewhere. It’s not for everyone, honestly, but it has a certain earnest vibe that keeps you watching even when the plot gets a little bit thin.
The whole thing feels like a time capsule. Tommy Scott wants to be a doctor, which is a nice touch, but then he starts throwing a football and everything goes haywire. It’s the classic story of the guy who gets too much too soon.
Look, the football in this is… well, it’s not exactly the NFL. It’s mostly guys in baggy pants running around looking confused. There’s a scene where the stadium crowd looks like it was mostly cardboard cutouts. It’s weirdly charming.
I found myself wondering if anyone on set actually understood how a snap works. But then, the movie isn't really about the game. It’s about the ego.
The financial side of the movie feels almost quaint. Bad deals in the 30s look different than today, but the greed is the same. I caught myself rolling my eyes at the dialogue. Some of it feels like a stage play that got lost on its way to a soundstage.
Still, watching Richard Cromwell try to carry the weight of the world is interesting. He looks like he hasn't slept in a week. It’s a very 1932 kind of performance, very dramatic, lots of squinting at the horizon.
If you like this sort of thing, you might also find some echoes of The Canvas Kisser in how they handle the sports-to-tragedy arc. It’s not quite as bleak, though. Maybe just a bit more naive.
Don't expect a masterpiece. Just expect a movie that’s trying its best to be a big deal. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it’s just a guy throwing a ball while everyone cheers for no apparent reason. 🏈