Hollywood Sports Movies and the American Dream
Growing up darting from chain link fence dugouts in the burning Phoenix sun to games on the hardwood (and let me be honest, also the hard wood of the bench), I have loved sports as long as I can remember. And when I think about it, so has Hollywood. However, the oft-predictable and corny plotlines of many sports blockbusters have long left me skipping them in theaters and my streaming service queue. After all, watching Clint Eastwood play an aging scout baffled by analytics and hearing over an hour of baseball cliches simply did not do it for me. Sticking with Kevin Costner as he mulls over a draft day trade at the helm of Cleveland Browns engendered only mild interest in my book. I could go on, but you well know the trite type of sports flick I am talking about. And while the youthful nostalgia of watching a golden retriever serve as their team’s MVP across every sport imaginable tempts me for a second, I will not be racing to my couch to watch Air Bud (1997) or its many sequels anytime soon.
That is not to say the sports movie genre has no critical or worthwhile entries, and I am certainly not going to argue against these films’ place in the American imaginary. After all, the Kevin Costner vehicle Field of Dreams (1989) became so synonymous with the national spirit of baseball that Major League Baseball has played two regular season games in the cornfields of Dyersville, Iowa. Or the fact that while I have never set foot in Philadelphia, I could recognize those stairs—you know the ones I am talking about—in an instant as “Gonna Fly Now” plays in my head. And the genre does not shy away from political messages—whether it is 42 (2013) lionizing Jackie Robinson’s poise and power in breaking baseball’s color line or even Bend It Like Beckham’s (2002) comedic social commentary on gender discrimination in sport.
Thus, despite my distaste for the contrived underdog plotlines that about in fictional realm of Hollywood’s rendering of sport, it would be foolish to ignore their place in both the pop and political culture of the United States. As Grant Wiedenfeld would quickly warn me in his book Hollywood Sports Movies and the American Dream, instead these installments of cinema are a “low but vital part of American society’s practice of civil religion, Hollywood sports movies have more to say than any one book could contain.” (214) And while I may not always agree with the analysis or generosity given to characters in Hollywood Sports Movies, Wiedenfeld has reminded even this sports fan and scholar just how far-reaching the cultural impact of sport—whether real or imagined—has its hand in the sociopolitical culture of the United States.
The Kevin Costner vehicle Field of Dreams (1989) became so synonymous with the national spirt of baseball that Major League Baseball has played two regular season games in the cornfields of Dyersville, Iowa.
Not only does Wiedenfeld’s book work to renew our collective interest in the sports movie, it more importantly provides a new lens with which to approach several seminal films—moving past existing to criticism to also shed light on the lessons they share about the inclusion of agendas such as democratic participation, growing multiculturalism, and community-building in the political character of the United States. Wiedenfeld does so both through the lens of a sports fan and hearty critique, weaving together a narrative that explores just as much the contemporary moment of the United States as it does sports on the big screen. Or in their own words, they “develop a competing idea of Hollywood movies as a ‘civic screen’ that can foster democracy through solidarity, recognition, and norms.” (7) This comes not just in the form of solidarity or recognition of the heroes of these tales, but also of the derided characters—Wiedenfeld participates with the people of the movies he analyzes.
In his work, Wiedenfeld weaves together analyses and insights across six Hollywood sports movies—ranging from the underdog story of Rocky (1976) to the streetball hustling and racialized dynamics of White Men Can’t Jump (1992) to the biopic Ali (2001) that complicated and situated the eponymous boxer in the sociohistorical context of the sixties and seventies. The book weaves the theoretical insights of a diverse group of thinkers from Hannah Arendt to Montesquieu to construct deep analyses of these films in the contemporary American moment. Part film critique and part political pondering, this book provides not just a compelling case for the importance of pop culture (and more specifically the sports film) in the imaginary of the American nation, but also of how the collective experience of watching these movies can be its own form of civic engagement.
Nowhere is this better exemplified than the book’s reading of A League of Their Own (1992)—the famous comedy-drama surrounding the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League starring Tom Hanks, Geena Davis, and Madonna. While some scholars have accused director Penny Marshall of focusing too intently on the ‘feminine’ characteristics of its protagonists and defaulting to the individualism ever-present in sports films, this is not the case for Wiedenfeld. He instead applies the political theory of Montesquieu to highlight the “egalitarian virtue of women’s collective achievement over the aristocratic-monarchical virtue of individual distinction.” (173) From this perspective, A League of Their Own is not just a historical film about a progressive baseball league, but a satire of the aristocratic and exploitative norms of selfish profit-mongers and ‘society’ women amidst World War II. (160) And while it is true that Dottie—the film’s central character—does not necessarily espouse the values of a modern feminist, Wiedenfeld provides a compelling defense of the feminist spirit of this sports blockbuster. The chapter argues that in fact by “centering the story on moderate Dottie, Marshall’s drama appeals to a broad coalition of women, much like the communal association movement in 1990s feminism.” (148) Plus, the abundant sidelining of male figures and their eventual non-dominance provides a representation of progressive masculinity that does not detract from the autonomy of female characters. (159)
For Wiedenfeld, sports movies and pop culture outputs like A League of Their Own have the power to remind us of the non-linear movement toward multiculturalism, community values, and liberal political philosophy in the past few decades of American political history. Pop culture’s interaction with sport can also remind us of the insidious imperial and colonial legacy of the United States. Using Colin Kaepernick as a jumping off point, Wiedenfeld argues that “Idly ignoring the ceremony” of the American republic “abandons the prophetic dream of democracy while standing proudly ignores the historical and contemporary injustice minorities face in this country.” (213) In this sense, the book in part tries to dispel the notion that the Trump-inspired pushback to the protests of athletes can certainly evoke in all of us: “Had no real change occurred in the United States since the 1960s, after all?” (205) However, it does so without abandoning the continued need for progress and communal evolution. While I personally find liberal political philosophy and the so-called prophetic dream of republican democracy in the United States to be lacking in many regards, the analysis of these films and the political character of the United States does effectively argue that “Progress toward democracy was neither automatic, linear, nor complete, but some development is evident.” (206) Seeing that progress requires taking a new view of the sports film and the political reality of the United States, working—in Wiedenfeld’s view—toward a civil religion that both demonstrates love for America and the truth of its past. Both critique the oligarchic tendencies of the United States and provides a hopeful picture of a more collective future. Both embrace the shame of our nation and the prophecy of the American dream. While this call for a Utopian future with renewed faith in civic institutions and democratic reform personally seems naïve, even Wiedenfeld admits “such a compromise demands wide adoption to be significant.” (213) To be fair, my skepticism in our nation’s political institutions and calls for radical political change are in part what Wiedenfeld is pushing back on within the “dominant critical tradition.” I will not hold out hope for such adoption of a civil religion, but I will concede the cultural building blocks for such a philosophy are present in the sports films analyzed.
For Wiedenfeld, sports movies and pop culture outputs like A League of Their Own have the power to remind us of the non-linear movement toward multiculturalism, community values, and liberal political philosophy in the past few decades of American political history. Pop culture’s interaction with sport can also remind us of the insidious imperial and colonial legacy of the United States.
At the very least, Hollywood Sports Movies is a reminder that United States’ sport and pop culture are intimately intertwined with the political and social character of the nation. However, Wiedenfeld’s text is far more than that. At its peak, the book is a unique approach to understanding how this nation has imagined its democratic character since 1976 and how it might imagine its democratic character in the future. Approachable both for American studies scholars, film buffs, and sports fans, this book is a worthwhile read for a broad audience that provides a fresh look at these classic films. Maybe it is time for me to revisit the sports section of my Netflix account after all, just as long as Clint Eastwood is not yelling about how sabermetrics is ruining baseball and the plotline revolves around a topic more inspiring that the Cleveland Browns.
