THE DWIGHT GOODEN POSTER

I screened Hoop Dreams last night to a group of about 30 students.  I was pretty excited to show the film, as it has been one of my favorites since I first saw it when I was 12 or 13.  At that time, basketball was, by leaps and bounds, my favorite sport.  It was never the sport I was best at, but I liked somehow being involved in every play and the constant movement.  Baseball bored the shit out of me during the moments when I wasn’t involved in a play, and football also had a lot of down time.  In hoops, at the very least, I got to run around for the entire game.  Anyhow, what most struck me about the film back then was 1) how good Arthur and William were at basketball and 2) how driven they were to succeed despite so many barriers standing in their way.  I think this is the reading that the film wants viewers to have.  Overall, it’s inspirational with a slight nod toward the Reagan-era social inequities that beat the shit out of urban African American communities across the country.  It doesn’t ask us to ignore these factors—in many cases it gestures directly toward them—but it seems to want us to believe that the human spirit can overcome these kinds of obstacles.  I actually remember thinking after watching the film that if Arthur and William can get scholarships with all those cards stacked against them, then it should be easy for someone like me to get a scholarship if I just work really, really hard.  Alas, Marquette never called (apparently they weren’t interested in a 6-foot-tall small forward who liked to try to get rebounds).  Although I did eventually end up at Indiana University—but cannot afford tickets to the basketball games except for the ones over winter break.  Oh yeah, the human spirit doesn’t exist.  Word is bond, cousin.

My reading of the film took a turn toward the grim as I got older.  I realized, despite the film’s lack of explicit explanation, that the Hoop Dream is a totally screwed up fantasy that messes up way more lives than it ever helps.  I also realized that the pressure for young black men to excel at sports is ridiculously and unreasonably high to the point where if you are a black male who appears athletic and is not developmentally disabled and you DON’T want play sports you are seen as a total freak. I also realized that despite the Civil Rights movement, Affirmative Action, and the slowly increasing prevalence of non-white people in positions of power, the U.S. is probably as racist as it has ever been. I realize that this is not a particularly ingenious reading, but still, I had to be at least in high school to make it. Moment in the film that drives this all home for me: Dick-wad Coach Pingatore’s commentary on Arthur Agee when he is recruiting him: “I can see the playground in him.”  Pingatore really nails this home when he fails to help Arthur find funding to cover  the remaining costs of his tuition to St. Joseph’s after he fails to perform as expected on the court. As Luther Bedford, the coach of Marshall High—the inner-city school where Marshall ends up after being booted from St. Joe’s—says:  “If he [Arthur] was going out there and he was playing like they had predicted him to play, he wouldn’t be at Marshall. Economics wouldn’t have had anything to do with him not being at St. Joe’s. Somebody would have made some kind of arrangement and the kid would still be there. He’s not making it like they thought he was going to make it on the basketball court, so he’s not there—simple as that. And it doesn’t take no brilliant person to figure that out.” To put it simply, even when these programs are celebrating William and Arthur, they’re shitting on them, or just deferring the act of shitting on them until their usefulness expires.  While the film does hint at this, it would be nice if it was a bit more direct, because…..

I feel like the folks I watched this with read it as an uplifting story.  I get the impression that, after watching what I think is a story that makes Breaking Bad and A Serious Man seem hopeful, they think “wow, basketball really does provide a way out.”  I got the impression that these folks, many of whom are actually from the same Chicago suburbs that raid the inner-cities for basketball talent and use it up until the well dries, think that Hoop Dreams illustrates America’s greatness.  But this is how those types of schools—the schools that filter students into universities filled with people just like them—seem to teach students how to consume these stories.  You can read Hoop Dreams as a pat on the back or a slap in the face. I guess the choice is pretty easy for the folks who this film is, at least implicitly, attacking.  This sad fact was more depressing than this grim movie.  Why didn’t Herzog do the voiceover: “The implacable silence of the filth-ridden urban concrete is reminiscent of the ancient Kraken beckoning the void.”  Sounds cooler with a German accent and a big dose of self-indulgence.

FYI: Coach Pingatore is still coaching at St. Joe’s and he still seems to be a prick.  Another fast-fact is that Ohio State star Evan Turner went to St. Joe’s and played for Pingatore.

A couple of things struck me about this film after seeing it for the umpteenth fucking time is that it’s final third is flabbier than Night Moves’ Employee of the Month.  I was again surprised at how much this show drags once William and Arthur hit senior year.  The irony of all this is that the only Oscar Hoop Dreams was nominated for was “Best Editing” (it didn’t win).  I guess it should come as no surprise that the same organization that celebrates Maggie Gyllenhaal’s abysmal performance in Crazy Heart would think that a 3-hour documentary with more loose thread that one of those hip scarves that the Jonas Brothers wear would be well-edited. Get some scissors muthafuckahs!

Another depressing moment in the film that I forgot:  One of the greatest moments in the film is when Arthur’s mom Sheila Agee graduates from a Nurse’s Assistant’s program—first in her class.  This is pretty significant: she has a bunch of kids, is living below poverty-level, has a violent drug head husband and still manages to pass this certification.  Lo and behold, only 5 or so people are in the audience at her graduation.  Where’s the noose?  Amiright?

Another bleak moment: Watching Pingatore’s main assistant coach (I can’t remember his name) mimic everything that his daddy-boss does.  Pingatore says “confidence,” little assistant-bitch says confidence.  Pingatore demeans players, little assistant-bitch demeans players.  I don’t know why, but every time this jerk-stain entered the frame, I wanted to eat a cyanide pill and call it a life.  I think it was a reminder—in an even sharper way that Pingatore’s character—that the people who have power over you are often dumb as shit.

Cool moment I didn’t remember that well: How great Marshall coach Luther Bedford is from start to finish.  He’s easy-going, honest, and doesn’t take any shit.  You get the impression that he is one of the few people in the film (aside from the family members) who legitimately care about the players.

Other cool moment: Arthur has to take summer school pretty much every year.  One year, he takes an English class with a real poindexter of a teacher.  The scene shows the teacher trying to engage students with a “spirited discussion” about a “controversial topic.”  The teacher almost had to yell to be heard about the class.  He then asks if “you have to have sex on the first date” to which Arthur, without hesitation, hollers “Yes!”  Nerd-teacher then argues that casual sex is an ultimately unfulfilling way to try to reach an emotional connection with someone. The students laugh at him.  Nerd teacher even had a pocket protector.  Now, any great documentary is built partly on luck.  You are filming something and things happen that make it more than just another story—you just happed to be there when this important stuff goes down.  Serendipity and all that.  Running into nerd-teacher-posing-as-provocateur was a solid gold find for the good folks making Hoop Dreams.