Super Sunday
Oliver
Stone delivers the ultimate guy movie.
Let's
hear it for sports movies! The most avid sports fan can occasionally be bored
by lackluster games, but even the casual spectator can appreciate what the big
screen can do for an athletic contest, even one played by actors rather than
athletes: the closer-than-life close-ups, the dramatic use of slo-mo
(preferably highlighted by driving rain), the tension-filled score, the big
game that invariably gets decided in the last possible few seconds, and, best
of all, the big "whomp 'em" sounds of bones breaking in digital
stereo.
Director Oliver Stone is a
perfect fit for this type of film: In recent years, he seems to be competing
with
Everything any red-blooded
American male could hope for is in place: constant football-player-as-gladiator
metaphors, games shown in slow motion, games played in driving rain, head coach
Al Pacino yelling at the top of his lungs, James Woods (as the team's doctor)
and Cameron Diaz (as the owner) yelling back, players scoring touchdowns by
leaping into the air and executing a perfect somersault over their opponents'
heads, and so forth. It's too bad movie theaters in this country don't sell
beer -- the one element missing to create macho nirvana. Women may not have
such a great time; not only is football male-skewed to begin with, but this
film even suggests that women ruin the purity of the game: Female lead Cameron
Diaz is a hard-assed team owner who's in it for the money; the players'
girlfriends and wives either resent their men's success or aren't satisfied by
it; and the only woman who really seems to understand is an expensive call girl
(Elizabeth Berkley, baring all again, as she did in Showgirls) who's
paid $1,000 a night to please.
As for the story, well, let's
face it, no one generally goes to a sports movie looking for originality. They
go to see one of two things: a veteran sports hero coming back for one last
game or an up-and-coming underdog beating the odds and achieving a major
victory. In either case, there's usually a lot of personal baggage to get past,
a major financial stake, and a match or game that will inevitably be decided at
the last possible moment. Any Given Sunday gives us both: Dennis
Quaid as the John Elway-like star quarterback whose injuries are about to end
his career, and Jamie Foxx as the young hotshot who's ready to take his place
but lets his ego get in the way of team spirit. Holding the team together as
best he can is coach Tony D'Amato (Pacino), a
traditionalist becoming increasingly disillusioned with the commercialization
of his favorite game.
All the marks are hit just as
they should be. Will Quaid know when to pack it in for the good of the team?
Will Foxx overcome his ego and work with his teammates? Will Pacino let his
personal dislike of Foxx cloud his judgment? Will financial concerns overpower
personal ones? Will the big game be decided in the final 10 seconds? We may
have seen endless variations of these elements before, but Stone handles them
effortlessly, pumping up the adrenaline with music from the likes of Moby and
Robbie Robertson interspersed with snippets of Indian chanting and even an
excerpt from the Run Lola Run soundtrack.
Jamie Foxx, best known for In
Living Color and his own eponymous subpar sitcom, gives a star-making
performance as Willie "Steamin'" Beamen, who negotiates the
transition from an intimidated rookie who vomits on the field before a major
play (shades of Denver Bronco-turned-WWF wrestler Darren "Puke"
Drozdov) to cocky prima donna. Fans of his earlier work will appreciate the
goofy, over-the-top rap video (lyrics by Foxx) that Beamen shoots at the height
of his popularity and a dead-on impersonation of Pacino. There's no doubt that
he's a better choice than Puff Daddy, who reportedly left the production when
he turned out to be a mediocre football player. It's unfortunate that Stone saw
fit to undercut Foxx's key dramatic scene with Pacino by interspersing images
of lightning bolts and scenes from Ben Hur throughout (even more
unfortunate considering that Charlton Heston shows up later in the film in a
bureaucratic role), but at least he let the other remaining key dramatic scenes
alone: an argument between Dennis Quaid and wife Lauren Holly, for instance,
and a gleefully loud three-way shouting match between Pacino, James Woods, and
Matthew Modine.
The cast is so loaded with stars
that one can scarcely mention them all, but special credit should go to
Ann-Margret as Diaz's mother; Aaron Eckhart as a numbers cruncher; LL Cool J as
the star running back; John C. McGinley as a geeky sportswriter who
straight-facedly says to Foxx, "Your smack is so fresh! Gimme a pound,
dog!"; real-life former players Jim Brown and
Lawrence Taylor; and Stone himself as a sportscaster (he certainly looks the
part).
At one point, when Quaid's
injured quarterback is writhing in pain, he says of his painkiller dosage:
"I'm a football player -- they've got to pump up the volume here!" We
would expect nothing less from Oliver Stone, and he has done so gloriously.
There's no doubt that hard-core fans will find some of the action less than
realistic, but what the actors don't have in experience is more than made up
for by the sheer bombast of the production. It's hard to beat the NFL for
over-the-top spectacle, but trust