Jockey

Clifton Collins Jr., a quintessential "that guy" character actor, gets his moment in the dimming sun in this reflective drama about a jockey facing the end of a long, painful ride.

“You can’t be afraid of death. Anymore than a baby can be afraid of being born. It just takes us to whatever’s next. And then we go to wherever’s after that.”

—Jackson Silva

Back in the olden days — 2010-ish — the gang here at Film Yap coined a term for character actors and actresses who seem to turn up in a lot of good movies doing solid work, but their names never quite break out into pop culture mainstream: “That Guys/Gals.”

Clifton Collins Jr. is a quintessential That Guy.

He’s played a ton of sidekicks and supporting characters, from “Pacific Rim” to “Capote,” always the guy whose job is to make the star shine, not stand in the spotlight. But every now and then, a That Guy or Gal gets to headline a small indie picture, as Collins does in “Jockey.”

You know all those uplifting horse racing movies, where a little horse that could comes out of nowhere, overcomes adversity and, with the help of an emotionally invested rider and/or trainer and/or owner, heads to the big race — and wins?

This is not that movie.

Oh, a few races will be won in this drama, directed by rookie feature film director Clint Bentley, who co-wrote the screenplay with Greg Kwedar. It borrows heavily from themes in movies like “Seabiscuit” or “Dream Horse,” but is like their darker, minor-key cousin with a much more downbeat mood and fatalistic themes.

Collins plays Jackson Silva, a former legendary jockey who won a lot of big races in the ‘90s but now is just about past his expiration date. His body is breaking down, the result of too many high-speed spills and tramplings, and he’s developed a numbing tremor in his whip hand… a deficiency he carefully conceals.

He owns an old truck and a trailer he lives in, moving from track to track with the seasons. He’s currently eking out an existence in Phoenix, mostly as an early-morning exerciser rather than a topflight jockey.

His buddy, Ruth (Molly Parker), an astute trainer working for some lower-end horse owners, makes sure Jackson stays marginally employed and throws him a race ride when she can. They’re about the same age and situation, both staring down some lonely golden years on the horizon, and have the sort of easy, trusting friendship that could slide into a promising romance if they ever got the gumption.

Beginnings and endings is the theme of “Jockey,” the notion that someone’s ride is about to end just when someone else is mounting up.

To that end, the film takes place almost entirely at twilight or daybreak, the times when those who ply horseflesh for a living earn their pay. The cinematography by Adolpho Veloso is breathtaking, slanted shards of light coloring the sky and caressing the ground.

It reminded me in a lot of ways of Terrence Malick’s “Days of Heaven.” (If you’re not familiar, that’s high praise.)

The movie sets us up with a pair of familiar, bordering on cliche, plot developments. The first is that Ruth reveals she has acquired a mare, Dido, that looks like a natural winner. Jackson takes her for some twirls around the track and reports she’s the sort of horse you don’t have to teach anything — just point them in the right direction.

The smart move would be to recruit a hotshot young jockey, not rely on a busted-up has-been like Jackson. But Ruth wants them to embrace the chance they’ve both waited for so long together. You can read the arithmetic yourself.

The second is that a promising young jockey named Gabriel turns up, following around Jackson like a puppydog and asking after him. (He’s played by Moises Arias, already staking quite a That Guy name for himself.) He soon skips right to the point: Jackson is his father from a long-forgotten girlfriend.

Jackson first treats this news as a joke, then an annoyance, and finally as a threat. Is Gabriel looking for money? Coddling? But eventually he simmers down and gets to know the youngster, and he starts to form something like a fatherly bond… even if he still doubts the paternity.

Given these pieces, you could pretty much predict the rest of the movie: Jackson tutors Gabriel in riding and manhood, tries to make a go of his own comeback, suffers a serious health event, Ruth offers to partner with him for his post-saddle days and Gabriel wins the big race atop Dido.

Some of these things do happen, and some of them don’t. One thing I appreciated about Bentley and Kwedar’s script is that it is aware of the expectations of a story like this and manages to eschew them without exactly running away from it. I’ll say no more.

This movie lives and breathes in the back stables and jockey locker rooms that exist as the smelly, little-seen underworld of a sport belonging to the nobility.

Men like Jackson are small in stature but gigantic in courage, willing to barter and batter their own bodies in much the same way as the horses are sired, trained and ground into the dirt of the track. In a group support meeting he attends for aging jockeys like himself (played by real-life veterans), they trade stories of hospitalizations, broken bones and severed nerves.

On top of that is the daily anxiety of anorexic-adjacent eating habits and frenetic exercise to make weight, finding a ride and keeping it. The only thing worse than falling off the saddle is not being able to climb onto one.

And yet, they live for that rare chance when they’re galloping a sure thing to the winner’s circle, with every eye on them for their moment in the dimming sun.

“Jockey” features a terrific, grounded performance from Collins, playing a guy who’s made a lot of bad choices and knows his time is up, but isn’t quite ready to let go. He can live with a mountain of pain, but fear has finally caught up to him.

It’s the sort of turn that would rate awards attention if performed by a star. But That Guys tend not to rate a lot of golden hardware, and have to content themselves with embracing the value of the work for its own sake.

A lot of times in life you have to find your own rewards, and learn to appreciate them, rather than wait for someone to tell you you’ve won.