IT AIN'T OVER - Mark Reviews Movies

It Ain't Over, Sony Pictures Classics

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Review by Mark Dujsik | May 11, 2023

There's a strange, contradictory quality to It Ain't Over, a documentary about the career and public persona of Lawrence "Yogi" Berra. Berra became as known for his work in advertising and his way with language as he did for playing and coaching professional baseball, mostly in New York City, for more than four decades. In fact, he probably became better known for his loveable persona and his quirky usage of words than he did for his accomplishments as an athlete, and that, according to those who knew him so well, is a big problem.

Is it, though? One's appreciation for director Sean Mullin's documentary is likely going to be directly tied to one's appreciation for sports primarily as a numbers game. That's ultimately why this movie comes across as so impersonal.

It shouldn't. Mullin sets it up as a love letter to Berra from his family, friends, colleagues, and those who have looked up to him over the decades. The interview subjects here are a fairly diverse and impressive bunch, with sports broadcaster Bob Costas helping to explain Berra's significance to the sport and to the most famous of New York baseball teams, Derek Jeter and ballplayers of assorted generations pointing out how much the man meant as a direct inspiration, and even Billy Crystal offering some insight about how a person's reputation as a clown can undermine that individual's legacy to some degree.

Crystal, by the way, is identified as a "friend" to Berra when the actor/comedian is first introduced, but it's odd how all of his stories are told with a feeling of distance from Berra. Of all the ways for people closest to a subject to speak of that person, Mullin almost seems to have prompted his interviewees to keep it as objective, neutral, and fact-based as possible.

That approach is fine, if a bit dull, in the beginning of this movie, as Mullin and his experts trace the trajectory of Berra's life from a kid of Italian immigrants playing stickball in St. Louis to finding himself playing for the Yankees, a team with which he grow to have a love-hate relationship as the decades passed, almost by accident. A pal from the neighborhood was offered a contract with local pro ball club, and believing himself to be worth just as much money as his friend, he turned down an offer and signed up in New York, only to realize later that the apparent insult wasn't that at all.

It's a good story, and one wishes there were more of them here. There certainly could be, since Mullin has collected so many people who knew Berra personally and professionally. His three sons play a prominent role in explaining the conflict that would develop between their father and controversial Yankees head George Steinbrenner for more than a decade. Berra's granddaughter Lindsay becomes the key figure and narrator of his story, seeing it as a personal insult when Major League Baseball didn't recognize her grandfather as one of the greatest living players in 2015—as Berra was sitting in the stands watching others be recognized as such.

From there, the whole movie kind of takes on that attitude of having a chip on its shoulder. It's not enough that everyone here tells us that Berra was one of the best to ever play—and was certainly one of the best alive at the time of that aforementioned event.

The filmmaker and interviewees go through the statistics—one by one, again and again—and the comparisons to other famous players. He was undeniably a better hitter than Babe Ruth, for example. Berra still has more World Series rings—as a player and especially after including his other roles on winning teams—than anyone else in the sport. Such numbers and averages are helpful for context, but we get a better idea of Berra as a perpetually competitive athlete and good sport in general when Jeter recalls challenging him on his championships. Berra played with a shorter schedule and against fewer teams than today's players, so according to Jeter, it would more like the equivalent of winning five rings in the modern age. In response, Berra invited him to come to his home and see the 10 rings he did win any time.

A single anecdote like that says a lot more about Berra than any numbers. Well, it does if one cares about a portrait of someone as more than numerical accomplishments. Mullin's movie seems to go out of its way to put a barrier between the athlete and the man. It has to acknowledge how most people came to know him, as a regular in advertising and for his so-called "Yogi-isms," which remain in common parlance even to this day. Some question the grammar and basic logic of these sayings, which is a shame, because there's some plain truth to them. Mullin doesn't see that as enough, though, so he brings in an expert on English grammar to inform us of just how genius they actually are.

That's a bit much, but it's in line with the rest of It Ain't Over. The movie is too busy being defensive against real, perceived, or wholly imagined slights against its subject to give us an actual portrait of him.

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