Dir. Ivan Reitman
If you have the misfortune of being a Cleveland Browns fan (and I say this lovingly as a long-suffering Eagles guy), you have a pretty central question to ask yourself before watching this film about a fictional Browns GM wheeling and dealing on one of the biggest NFL days of the year: Do you take pride in seeing your team’s colors and (partially fabricated) history on display for the world to see as an acknowledgement of your pain, or do you recoil at being the subject of a film whose principle theme concerns the gullibility and misery of being in Cleveland and rooting for the hapless Browns?
The question matters, because the GM, Sonny Weaver, Jr. (Kevin Costner), remains inscrutable to the point where we’re not even sure if we’re meant to be rooting for him or not. On the morning of the draft, he agrees with the GM of the Seahawks (Patrick St. Espirit) for an earth-shattering trade: Three consecutive first-round picks for the top pick in 2014 (in this fictional NFL world, the Seahawks, apparently, didn’t just win the Super Bowl), and consensus franchise player, QB Bo Callahan (Josh Pence).
Only things get raggedy from there. For one thing, his coach (Dennis Leary), hates the move and does what he can to short-circuit it, for another his secret girlfriend, Ali, (Jennifer Garner), the team’s cap manager, keeps pressing him about their relationship, which is about to take a drastic change, to say nothing of his staff (Timothy Simmons, David Ramsey and Wade Williams) who like the move but hate the cost, and the team owner (Frank Langella) who wants only to make a big splash on draft day and to hang the consequences.
We follow Sonny through the day’s tortures and pressures only to see him completely reverse course more than once. The question the film never seems terribly inclined to answer is just what we’re meant to make of a GM who makes a bold move in the morning, regrets it by midday and then does whatever he can to circumvent it that night. The film, clearly sanctioned by the NFL, and featuring numerous talking heads from ESPN and the NFL Network, hopscotches around the league, taking us into the jock-opulent décor of GM offices as far flung as Seattle, Kansas City, Buffalo and Jacksonville in order to provide crucial authenticity, but in the end, the story cooked up by screenwriters Scott Rothman and Rajiv Joseph doesn’t very much add up.
Still, there’s a kind of sizzling energy in the air. Director Ivan Reitman, a steady hand at comedy, has a way with managing the chaos and false bravado of the war room, with the myriad of back stories, tensions, and emotional history all locked into a tiny compartment together. We briefly follow the fortune of three draftees and their families and agents, which gives the film a bit more space in which to stretch. It’s just a shame they choose to do so little with it.
You have to wonder what a better writer might have done with this material — I could imagine David Mamet taking to these intricate negotiations like a shark to a bucket of entrails — but what we’re left with feels just about half-baked. Between bouts of expository dialogue and wonky football-speak, very little of which comes out sounding authentic, like the would-be dweebs in Twister trying to talk scientifically about storm fronts and the Saffir-Simpson scale without a clue in the world what they’re actually saying, the character work itself is fairly primitive and largely uninspiring, despite the film’s dramatic swells of music that very much try to suggest otherwise.
The truth is, by the end, we still have no idea if Sonny has been brilliantly playing cat-and-mouse the entire day, or has somehow been made to be the luckiest GM on the planet by complete accident. As a Browns fan, you also have to wonder if the only way the team will ever escape its inexorable morass is by being liberally sprinkled with Hollywood fairy dust.