Angelo Pizzo’s My All-American is a movie with the best of
intentions, most of them presented in a manner that would be better suited to a
film from the 1950’s. All of the characters here have the depth of a shallow
puddle, all conflicts are surmountable through hard work and determination and
America is a great place to live and grow up in with nary a social problem in
sight. The rose-colored glasses the
story is seen through were out of date 40 years ago and to try and foist
something as narrow-minded and naïve as “All-American” is, shows just how out
of touch Pizzo is with today’s audiences.
Freddie Steinmark (Fin Wittrock) was
a product of the Texas football culture.
Raised by a father who pushed him at every turn and a mother that
encouraged him just as often, he realized his lifelong dream of being recruited
by and playing for the University of Texas.
Small by the sport’s standards, he was still able to excel at the
defensive back position, playing on the 1969 national championship team. However, he would face his greatest challenge
when diagnosed with cancer after his junior year.
Movies with this subject matter have
been made successfully before and Pizzo has written some of the best, penning Hoosiers and Rudy, often regarded as two of the greatest sports films ever
made. However, if All-American proves
anything it’s that while Pizzo may be able to construct a sound screenplay
using the “sports as a metaphor for life” formula, he lacks the deft touch
necessary to effectively bring them to the screen. Every emotion is not only
telegraphed but delivered a bit too obviously while the innocent vision of late
1960’s America is as convincing as a three dollar bill. If anything, the film demonstrates how difficult
it is to avoid maudlin sentiments and obvious emotion to deliver a genuinely,
sincere story of a human tragedy, as All-American, in adhering to its
superficial vision of life, fails to connect with the audience.
This article appears in Nov 12-18, 2015.
