By Brian Marder
Story
In 1966, one story of sports bravery begat another, and together they would forever change the face(s) of basketball, if not the nation. When Don Haskins (
Josh Lucas) accepts a job to coach at Texas Western University, he’s forced to recruit several black players instead of highly touted white players due to budgetary constraints and a program that doesn’t exactly match that of that of, say, Kentucky University. Black players were taboo back then, thus turning the team into fodder for hate crimes and ridicule. But Haskins doesn’t allow his players to get caught up in the national furor, and they show their allegiance to him by taking any and all aggression out on opposing players, on the court, the beleaguered players reaching a Zen in which they only hear their coach. They make it to the championship game, where they play an all-white Kentucky team in a sort of past-versus-future, landmark showdown.
Acting
Someone out in Hollywood is determined to make
Josh Lucas a star—or at least the next
Matthew McConaughey. After
Stealth failed to do that and everything else, he landed another huge role in
Glory, and it just might be the right fit. Lucas’s No. 1 asset might always be his looks—looks that will at least sustain female viewers’ interest during
Glory—but if there is to be a proverbial breakout performance, this will be it.
Lucas doesn’t quite exude “basketball coach,” even with unrelenting screaming at players, but he wears the Southern-isms well, and the more dramatic moments reveal his potential.
Jon Voight also stars as Adolph Ruff, storied coach of Kentucky.
Voight’s makeup job places him somewhere between his Howard Cosell in
Ali and
Nicole Kidman’s make-under in
The Hours, but he again does justice to a controversial sports legend.
Direction
Noted TV-commercial director
James Gartner makes his directorial debut on
Glory, but it’s uber-producer
Jerry Bruckheimer who makes a more lasting imprint on the film—he
Bruckheimer-izes it, if you will, making a sports drama look like
Bad Boys at times. Gone are the victorious and uplifting personal stories of oppression overcome in the 1960’s South; superimposed instead are comedic embellishments, off-court hijinks and mere
snippets of courageous depictions. This admittedly keeps the film flowing, but it also in a way trivializes the story’s impact.
Gartner ultimately re-creates the basketball scenes amazingly well, though, which is where the movie truly shines. For that reason it’s a shame
Bruckheimer had to impart his glossy stylings at all, because it seems like
Gartner was doing just fine on his own.