The oft-delayed "lost chapter" of ESPN's 30 for 30 series, this strives to be more than just a routine examination of the infamous Steve Bartman incident that may (or may not) have cost the Chicago Cubs a shot at the 2003 World Series. With the famously publicity-shy Bartman refusing to take part, the film instead leans on interviews with several of the fans to rub elbows with him that fateful evening. Those in-person perspectives are paired with insightful confessionals from the announce crew that called the game, a good portion of the Cubs' starting lineup, the local news team that outed Bartman's identity to the public and several of the security guards that escorted him to safety as the situation escalated.

Director Alex Gibney deserves credit for not only painting a broad, fair portrait of a chaotic, emotionally charged situation, but for rightly comparing it to other instances of misplaced blame and shameless scapegoating in pro sports and asking the difficult question of what exactly spins a knee-jerk reaction into a bonafide vendetta. Though the scrutiny of the Bartman play itself is a bit too intense at times, resulting in a run-time that's about 30 minutes too long, it accomplishes much more than a simple reenactment and should leave any serious sports fan wondering how many times they've reacted with the same brainless mob mentality over the years. Smart, challenging and honest; it's what any good documentary should strive to be.

[6.4/10] There’s about 30-40 minutes of good material here, which isn’t a great ratio considering the documentary is about 105 minutes long. Director Alex Gibney is really hamstrung by the fact that he’s doing a documentary about Steve Bartman that Bartman refused to participate in, and that there’s next to no public statements or interviews from the guy to rely on. That leaves this movie feeling circuitous and insubstantial in a lot of places.

The best Gibney can do is turn it into a sideways doucmnetary about Bill Buckner by means of comparison and a little bit about scapegoating in general. It makes me wish Gibney had gone whole hog on Buckner with Bartman as a side dish rather than the other way around. Buckner’s willingness to participate makes the story of being the one blamed and ultimately embraced by the fans who used to point the finger much more potent and present than the third-hand game of telephone Gibeny and company play with Bartman.

There’s also a great deal of throat-clearing in this one. I suppose some of it’s necessary to establish the details for people who know absolutely nothing about Bartman or Buckner, but man, the movie goes all-in on context and very little on substance. There’s plenty of talking heads trying to set the scene, but once that’s done, Gibney and company don’t have much to stay, despite the florid bits of voiceover narration meant to deliver the morals and poetry of these moments.

The film’s conclusions are mostly trite and unsupported by the film (even if I largely agree with them). Gibney implicitly blames the media for throwing the spotlight on Bartman (and to a lesser extent, Buckner), and he psychoanalyzes the fandom rage over their missteps as a public conduit for baseball fans’ frustrations at the run-of-the-mill hardships in their own lives. Neither’s a bad thesis, but *Catching Hell* spends more time giving Bartman’s interference the *JFK* treatment than actually building to one or the other.

On the whole, there’s still some good stuff here. The Buckner material in particular is affecting, and the film’s details about the aftermath for Bartman is interesting and worthwhile, far more so than the long wind-up to get there. There’s just a big hole in the middle of the documentary, given Bartman’s absence and the lack of good surrogates or substitutes, and Gibney can’t find much to fill it with.