Early next month, The Legend of Bagger Vance will open on screens in the US. It is the latest in a long line of films which use golf as a theme, dating back more than 50 years. And it illustrates the extent to which the Royal and Ancient game has become an acknowledged part of people's lives.
This new offering is a fantasy, directed by Robert Redford and starring Matt Damon as a troubled first World War hero, who excels on the golf course with the assistance of a wise and charismatic caddie, played by Will Smith. Adapted from the book by Steven Pressfield, it is essentially about a mythical golf match played in 1931 between Bobby Jones, Walter Hagen and Damon's character, Rannulph Junah.
Hollywood's involvement in golf has been an important part of the game's history, in that it marked its evolution from what was once perceived as an elitist activity to something which could be enjoyed by the masses. Indeed it is only when we consider such subjects as war, the Bible, gangsters and life in the old West, that we realise how much our perceptions have been shaped by what we have seen in movies. And leading exponents of golf were acutely aware of the importance of this mass appeal.
For instance, in the early 1920s, Hagen starred with fellow Americans Leo Diegel, Marge Beebe and Andy Clyde in a Hollywood production Green Grass Widows, which, naturally, included quite a number of golfing sequences.
A decade later, Henry Cotton appeared on stage at the London Coliseum giving a demonstration of golf, including hitting soft balls into the audience. It proved to be a particularly popular show.
By that stage, Hollywood icons such as Clark Gable, Bing Crosby and Douglas Fairbanks had become prominent golfing figures off screen. The stars were drawn towards such clubs as Riviera CC and Bel Air CC, both in Los Angeles, apart from being regular visitors to Pebble Beach and other courses on the Monterey Peninsula.
W C Fields starred in The Golf Specialist in 1930, and, eight years later, one of my favourite golfing sequences on film came in the Fred Astaire movie Carefree. It involved a ball-driving routine in which Astaire danced to the number Since They Turned Loch Lomond into Swing and rounded it off by driving five balls, in rapid succession, perfectly down the fairway, without missing a beat.
Indeed such sequences were often more compelling than the actual playing of the game. For instance, in M*A*S*H and Animal House, characters work to eliminate their slices to splendid, comic effect. And in Black Rain (1989), about an American detective in Japan, there is a shot involving a three-tier driving range.
It is argued, however, that the only filmed sequence which succeeded in recreating the tension and excitement of a real golf match was in the James Bond movie Goldfinger in 1964, in which the hero catches the eponymous villain cheating, with the help of his dubious caddie.
It owed much of its success to the golfing skill of the movie's star, Sean Connery, and the authentic setting of Prince's Golf Club in Kent. As it happened, Ian Fleming, author of the James Bond books, was a member of the Royal St George's Club, Sandwich, which was referred to as St Mark's in Goldfinger.
There were attempts to create similar suspense in the recent movie Tin Cup. This time the hero, played by Kevin Costner, was in line to become a most improbable US Open champion, only to self-destruct by repeatedly hitting three-wood second shots into water while attempting to reach a par-five.
From a women's perspective, Susan Clark did a fine job of capturing the career of Mildred Didrikson Zaharias in a made-for-television movie Babe (not to be confused with the splendidly animated effort about a lovable pig). Lending authenticity to the production, Clark's real-life husband, Alex Karras, played the Babe's spouse, George Zaharias.
But the movie which stands out above all others is Follow the Sun, based on the life of Ben Hogan and starring Glenn Ford. Released in 1951 after Hogan had successfully defended the US Open title, it may come across as somewhat corny by modern standards, but it does a fine job of recreating the horror of the car crash which almost ended the lives of both the golfer and his wife, Valerie, in February 1949.
Meanwhile, the popularity of the game also owed much to some remarkable feats, including holes-in-one. The earliest recorded hole-in-one was by Young Tom Morris at Prestwick's eighth, during the 1868 British Open. For others, golf was no more than a dimension - albeit an important one - of already full lives. Take the case of Henry Longhurst, who died in 1978. Before becoming arguably the most celebrated golf writer cum television commentator, Longhurst was good enough to be the German Amateur champion. But he was also an MP when Winston Churchill was British prime minister.
Golf has indeed come a long way since its pioneers were guiding feathery balls over rough linkland on the east coast of Scotland and from the time that news of the Irish rebellion of 1641 was conveyed to King Charles while he enjoyed a game at Leith.
It even became part of the space-age in 1971 when US astronaut Alan Shepard hit a six-iron shot on the moon. And by way of reminding him, and indeed the rest of us, of its unique code of conduct, the Royal and Ancient, in the course of a congratulatory telegram, gently reminded the American: ". . . before leaving a bunker, a player should carefully fill up all holes made by him therein".
