American Underdog (Erwin and Erwin, 2021)
I have been writing the same review of Erwin films for nearly a decade, so here it is: better than it has to be but not as good as it could be; likely to please the target audience and bore (rather than inflame) those outside Christian circles; competent directing, editing, and acting, but superficially written; mild thumbs up if you press me.
In my book Inconspicuously Christian Film Criticism I point out that the lines between formal criticism and and cultural criticism are blurred when dealing with overtly Christian films. It becomes harder to distinguish and messier to interpret the differences between “I did not like it” and “it was not good.” It probably goes without saying, though, that this ambiguity cuts both ways. There are plenty of viewers who will like something because it is Christian and not because it is artistically or skillfully made.
When a work cares little for artistry and only tries to appeal to its Christian base, it can and should criticized. But the Erwins are an unsettling case because they do care about artistrty. Rather than masking or transcending the limitations of the subject matter, however, the craftsmanship sometimes brings the mushiness of that subject matter into sharper focus. It doesn’t help, either, that writing is usually the weakest component of these films. Characters verbalize ideas in truisms that signal to the audience that they are like-minded and part of the tribe, even if the content of those ideas is not fully explored.
I will cite two examples.
The film opens with a Blind Side ripoff — the protagonist analyzing game film in order to extract and communicate the film’s ostensible theme. In this case it is that greatness comes from standing your ground. Now, I am a big fan of staying true to one’s beliefs, but this particular phrase is as unfortunately tone deaf as was the use of “Sweet Home Alabama” in Woodlawn. It can mean staying in the game and taking your licks, but it is now more likely to connote to the target audience pushing back rather than being peacemakers. The bigger problem, though, is that the film doesn’t really show Kurt standing his ground in any real sense, much less in any way that is narratively or thematically linked to his success. It shows him taking abuse, and lots of it, from offensive coordinator Mike Martz. But while those parts of the film expertly pluck at the strings of American Christianity’s persecution complex, the script ultimately acknowledges that Kurt wasn’t persecuted so much as unprepared to make the most of his early opportunity because he hadn’t yet learned how to put football first. (It does seem equally odd that the script appears unaware that putting football first is — or should be — in tension with Kurt’s values elsewhere in the film.) The Martz character is somewhat ambiguous, as he blames Kurt for every mistake on the field whether it was the quarterback’s fault or not. This allows Kurt to show he is the bigger man by turning the other cheek and accepting blame for the mistakes of others, which in turn wins the locker room. I have no idea if the portrayal of Martz is any more or less accurate than that of Art Howe in Moneyball (hey, every film needs a villain, right?), but I do know that “stand your ground” and accept abuse (or take a hit) are not synonyms in the current socio-political climate. I have little trouble believing that Warner might have been the embodiment of servant leadership. I do have trouble believing that this is what the film wants Christians to cheer about him. The ultimate emotions the film is supposed to engender are, I think, ones of triumphal vindication. See! Our way is right. It produces champions! That’s problematic if the way the champion is produced has little resemblance to what the core audience actually preaches, much less practices.
Or take the scene where Kurt asks Brenda why God would give him a dream that could never come true. Plenty of Christians I know talk and think like this, so I see the film trying to communicate to the audience that Kurt is just like them; his struggles are their struggles, and his questions are their questions. Therefore, it stands to reason, his answers are their answers. God made his dream come true because he kept at it, and no matter how large the odds against you, God will (I deliberately do not write “can” here) make your dreams come true as well. The question of unanswered prayers and unfulfilled aspirations is a complicated one, and I don’t even want to ding the film for side-stepping it like a passer avoiding the blitz. Where the film is pandering to Christian audiences, I think, is in the assertion that their dreams are necessarily from God. Does God “give” us our dreams? I don’t think the film is calling Warner a prophet, so I can only interpret that as suggesting that skills and aspirations are specific things that God simply implants in us. Kurt’s dream has nothing to do with the veneration that society gives to athletes, the remuneration it provides for their skills, or even the desire one creates and nurtures within oneself by making goals.
Since I mentioned Woodlawn and dog-whistling, I’ll go ahead and confess that I found it problematic that Kurt’s antithesis, the athlete who is standing in the way of Kurt’s dream and God’s will, is, of course, Ray Lewis. It is not that all the bad guys in the film are Black or that all the good guys are White, but it is troublesome that the film trades in the stereotypes that White athletes are cerebral, disciplined, and hard-working, whereas Black athletes are just physically gifted. (This stereotype is another thing American Underdog has in common with The Blind Side, the film which Michael Oher has reportedly criticized for suggesting that his adoptive White parents had to explain football to him.)
Let me be as blunt as I can possibly be here. I am categorically not saying that the film is racist. I am saying that the attitudes of many elements of American Christianity are less egalitarian and virtuous than those of characters presented as Christian in these sorts of films and that at times this film appears to indulge or gloss over the problematic attitudes, assumptions, and behaviors of modern Christians rather than confronting them or examining them. This is an issue that some of the Black artists address in the Erwins’s recent documentary, The Jesus Music.
Well, why give the film a mildly positive review then?
Part of my answer is that these films really are that much better than their alternatives. It may be easier to forgive the occasional mote when so much of the Christian subculture is walking around hypocritically justifying and championing more toxic beliefs. Plus I don’t want to totally conflate cultural criticism with formal criticism. The performers are fine, the characters winsome. I appreciated that Kurt’s Christian masculinity was represented more through honoring his commitments than through some sort of exaggerated perversion of patriarchy. The relationship between Brenda and Kurt is positive and loving. While bumps in the relational road are perhaps oversimplified, they are resolved through honest communication.
David Mamet once opined that a key difference between art and entertainment is that the former seeks to challenge or provoke the audience toward deeper examination while the latter seeks to (or is used to) comfort the audience by confirming what it thinks it already knows. In that paradigm, the Erwins are very clearly making entertainment pieces for a very specific audience with a very specific set of ideas. While one’s own attitude towards that culture and set of ideas may well be the primary index of whether a viewer likes their films, I’m not prepared (yet) to simply dismiss the good stuff because it’s too closely entwined with the wince-inducing. That said, I would like to see the brothers expand their range rather than always and only narrowing it to the point that it feels like they are making the same film over and over. Doing so might risk losing some of their fans, but I think they have maxed out my patience with the “arent’ Christians swell?” genre.