In the interest of getting “hard” copies of my work under one roof, I plan to spend the next few weeks posting the entire archive of my film journalism here on ScullyVision. With due respect to the many publications I’ve written for, the internet remains quite temporary, and I’d hate to see any of my work disappear for digital reasons. As such, this gargantuan project must begin! I don’t want to do it. I hate doing it. But it needs to be done. Please note that my opinions, like everyone’s, have changed a LOT since I started, so many of these reviews will only represent a snapshot in time. Objectivity has absolutely no place in film criticism, at least not how I do it.
– You’ve coached over 30 All American players in you’re career. Who was your favorite? ~ Freddie Steinmark
– But Freddie Steinmark wasn’t All American…
~ He was MY All American.
And as a heavily made-up, old man Aaron Eckhart wistfully recites the title of the film, so begins our story – told entirely in flashback – of the short collegiate career of Freddie Steinmark. My All American is written and directed by Angelo Pizzo, who also wrote the guy-cry classic, Rudy. And if Rudy is a shameless template-filler, My All American is the template. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing in a broad sense — the Rocky franchise boldly wears its heart on its sleeve to great effect — but My All American‘s heart is of the candy variety, stamped with “U Can Do It!”
Here’s the thing: the movie means so well and carries such a positive message about hard work and the keeping up of one’s chin that it’s hard to hate on it. It’s competently made, and could certainly inspire the right kind of response in a younger audience, which is something that should always be supported. Alas, it’s not for me. It’s also not forme.
Unfortunately, I still can’t give it a very positive review either, due mostly to the fact that the true story of Freddie Steinmark carries the potential for a much better movie. I can’t help but wonder if the cultural realization that Rudy is anything but factual informed Pizzo in his script for American. It’s so true to life, at least in terms of the main narrative events, that it doesn’t have an engaging structure. Yes, Freddie Steinmark lived and inspiring life, but it doesn’t make for a cinematic tale, and when the story doesn’t work on its own, it’s time to start ticking tropes off the checklist. In fact, the entire time I was watching My All American, all I could think was that it was just a few gags away from being the sports equivalent of Walk Hard.
Regardless of how much the film didn’t work for me, my heartstrings were certainly tugged more than a few times, and that’s always fun, even if it’s due to pure manipulation. And as I said before, it just means so well. There’s nothing offensive or bad about it, and the intended crowd will slurp it up like the remnants of a snow cone. My All American is precisely that – a snow cone. Sweet, pleasant tasting, but ultimately cold and lacking in substance.
