Harvard Beats Itself Into My Good Graces - For Once

My dislike of Harvard is almost as old as my dislike of football. Why, then, would I see a documentary about a sport I don't care for where my least-favorite college besides Duke is depicted in a positive light? Answer: The Film Forum description and a Wall Street Journal column.

Harvard Beats Yale 29-29 is a hoot, just a lot of fun even for the documentary-averse. It's still playing in one podunk NYC theater, Cinema Village. Catch it there, or be sure to track down the DVD early next year.

Harvard Beats Yale 29-29 tells a tale likely never seen on celluloid: the big, bad Crimson as underdog.

And it's a true story.

Director Kevin Rafferty's documentary appears simply made: 60-year-old men reminiscing around tables about a pigskin matchup 40 years ago, interlaced with grainy game footage and Don Gillis’ broadcast. Actually, it only looks simple - in fact, Harvard grad Rafferty builds suspense and humor into a movie whose outcome is known all along.

On Nov. 23, 1968, Harvard and hated rival Yale headed into the final game of the season, both undefeated for the first time since 1909.

The Bulldogs possessed glamour: higher ranking; quarterback who hadn't lost since junior high; running back who would land in the NFL Hall of Fame (Calvin Hill). We haven’t even touched on Garry Trudeau and Meryl Streep.

Meanwhile, Harvard had a 24-year-old Vietnam vet, an unsettled quarterback situation and a local paper that seemed shocked by victory. (Harvard also featured an offensive guard who went on to other fame: Tommy Lee Jones, very droll here.)

With 42 seconds left in the game, Yale was up 29-13. Then, somehow … (The film’s title comes from the Crimson headline.)

Harvard Beats Yale entertains as Yale students chant “You‘re Number Two!” and charms with player interviews, which feature anecdotes about the war, campus life and the game. Yale linebacker Mike Bouscaren personifies Rafferty’s storyline building: First coming off as the ultimate privileged snob (“douchebag,” one theatergoer muttered), he proves to be more than a man who liked making cheap tackles.

Jones’ contribution? Let’s just say that after this movie, you'll never view a telephone keypad the same way again.