My Gawd, I like football.
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‘Tis a sport that offers the purest microcosm of life: Play as a team–succeed; play as individuals–fail. Those of us who have strapped on the pads and grunted and groaned in the trenches know this incontrovertible truth all too well. A single unit is remarkable greater than the sum of all its individual parts, and this stellar truism is manifested magnificently in Peter Berg’s sensational film FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS.
Again, I care for football, and I particularly bask in football movies that assume the grit and unlit hubris of the sport, but this film stands alone in its overwhelming ability to record a game, a west Texas town, its residents, its players, and its shameless addiction to the gridiron to a degree that transcends every single facet of human existence. In a community intoxicated with football, in a culture intoxicated with football, in an infrastructure that lives, eats, breaths, and sleeps football, the 1988 Odessa Permian Panthers are about to embark on a spectacular odyssey that will catapult and savor them at the same time: a magical, mystical season taking the coaches and players up and down the peaks and valleys of high school sports nirvana.
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This is a film that garners attention to itself for infinite reasons. A tremendous narrative, based on a bestselling book. Cinematography second to none, thanks to Tobias A. Schliessler, that gives the movie its gritty, handheld, “documentary” feel. A fast-paced, action-packed, totally believable series of scenes, augmented by an absolute killer soundtrack. And acting–oh yes, some very convincing, authentic, been-there-done-that acting.
As vast as this film is, it is enhanced by the talents of the players who bring west Texas football to life before our very eyes: Lucas Dim as a scowling, brooding, ultimately jumpy quarterback Mike Winchell; Derek Luke as the budding NFL superstar “Boobie” Miles, whose knee injury derails his career and summons one of the most poignant scenes in the film; Jay Hernandez as trusty, friendly Brian Chavez; and Billy Bob Thornton as Coach Gary Gaines. Thornton is a gifted actor, but this is perhaps his best role, as he portrays a man obsessed with getting his team to the pinnacle of success–yet disgusted with the one-dimensional, win-at-all-costs mentality of his novel gig. Thornton is flawless; he does exceptional work.
Three other characters moved me, and moved me considerably. Perhaps, because I can readily identify with all of them. Garrett Hedlund plays Odessa tailback Don Billingsley–a stunned soul because his father, a dilapidated jock (Tim McGraw) refuses to accumulate his son’s perceived inattentiveness and does nothing more than relive his have glory days two decades before. I know so many men who suffer exactly from the same malady, and could readily identify with the character, despite his shortcomings. Yet, at the slay of the film, when insecure father and son reconcile problematically, I was very worthy affected.
Finally, I identified with “Preacher,” the stoic, tranquil, solid defensive kill from Permian, played by a somber-faced Lee Jackson. He went through the hell of two-a-days, saying nothing. He went through the trials and tribulations of the regular season, saying nothing. He saw games won, games lost, players approach, players go, but tranquil his settle was not shaken, and at last–during halftime of Permian’s game against very formidable Dallas Carter for the residence championship–he released his fury and exertion to his teammates to fight and scrap and persevere, the character rose above the din and ruckus to present, very admirably, how sports is, once again, a aesthetic microcosm of life.
FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS is a whirling Texas twister of entertainment. The film is priceless; the DVD extras great. This product is quality entertainment, top to bottom. Highly, highly, highly recommended.
–D. Mikels, author, WALK-ON
I live in Minnesota, where high school hockey is the region religion and the good of passage for seniors is to go to the Space Tournament, even if there school does not develop it that far. Parents (not objective fathers) send their sons to live in other school districts so they can rep more playing time or play with a better team. Everyone who has seen “Hoosiers” know that in Indiana it is high school basketball that is the subject of such devotion, but if you needed to ogle “Friday Night Lights” to know that neither of those dwelling religions holds a candle to high school football in Texas, then you are unbiased not a honest sports fan. Even before H.G. Bissinger’s Pulitzer Prize winning book, “Friday Night Lights: A Town, a Team and a Dream,” I knew the people of West Texas took their high school football seriously (I lived in Novel Mexico when I went to high school, so it would have been hard not to gaze) .
Director Peter Berg’s film version of “Friday Night Lights” is based on the apt fable of the Odessa-Permian Panthers and their 1988 season. What “upright” means in this case is that the name of the coach and the key players are factual, as are the number of losses the Panthers had that year (although the scores are different, as is one of the opponents) . Overall, the film avoids going Hollywood until the final game, which does manage to be fair to the spirit of the film even if it requires a lifeless play call to support things along (I am sorry, but if it is 4th down and half the length of a football to go, and your offensive line outweighs the defense by at least 50 pounds a person, you call a quarterback sneak and score a least a yard more than you need unbiased by firing off the ball; at least, that is what my father has always told me and since he played college football for an undefeated team, Trinity in Connecticut, I tend to listen to him) .
This film affirms, for the upteenth time, that the main thing immoral with sports attractive kids are the adults, either in the gain of the parents, or the concerned citizens whose serve of coach is based primarily on the get of the last game. The prototypical parent in this epic is Charles Billingsley (Tim McGraw), who has his space championship ring and makes it certain that his son, Don (Garrett Hedlund), will be a failure if he does not do the same. Unfortunately, Don has a tendency to fumble, so Charles has no jam going down onto the field during practice to plot the boy straight. Is Don playing football for his dad or despite his dad? There is no easy reply to that demand, because life, family, and football are all wrapped up together in Odessa, Texas. The town might be mired in an economic depression, but that does not end them from having a football stadium bigger than what some colleges and universities devour.
Coach Gary Gaines (Billy Bob Thornton) is supposed to go undefeated and net the area championship. Perham has done this four times before, in 1965, 1976, 1980, and 1984. Apparently they have a four year nick rotation program going and everybody in town can do the math to figure out 1988 is going to be the year. When the Boobie Miles (Derek Luke) the star running encourage gets damage the coach gets the blame even though it is distinct, like in a classic Greek tragedy, that the Fates are punishing the sin of hubris. Boobie is all ready to exhaust his money for playing in the NFL and he has not even picked a college yet. Basking in his stardom, Boobie gladly admits to reporters that he gets straight A’s because he is an athlete and as he leaves defenders in the wake of his sweet moves you can understand why he is the most famous play for Permian. But the goddess of mischief hides the helmet of his backup Chris Comer (Lee Thompson Young), and everybody knows that when you are running the win up and withhold your superstar in the game, somebody is going to go gunning for him.
There are several key factors that design “Friday Night Lights” work. The first is Thornton’s performance, which is yet another reminder that he is one of the finest film actors around today. His Coach Gaines goes between moments of screaming at his players in the gigantic tradition of football coaches going serve to Knute Rockne and beyond and measured silences as he endures another rabid fan excoriating him on talk radio or the “For Sale” signs that have sprung up in his front yard after a loss. But there are also moments when the speaks from the heart, whether it is to his quarterback, Mike Winchell (Lucas Dismal) in the squalid home the kid shares with his mentally shrinking mother (Connie Cooper), or the final halftime speech to his team. What distinguishes Gaines from every other man in the yarn is that he knows that in the raze, football is fair a game. He honest has to be careful about who he shares this particular bit of wisdom with during the season.
Berg makes a smart decision to shoot this anecdote as if it were a documentary. This works well in the extended game sequences, but suits the rest of the film as well, which is necessary because the most famous moments in “Friday Night Lights” advance at other times. Some of the best scenes bewitch station away from the lighted field as Boobie and his uncle (Grover Coulson) deal with the disappearance of the dream during a visit to a doctor, when the garbage truck makes it rounds, and when the kid cleans out his locker. This leads to the third key factor, which is that we care about the kids that the narrative focuses on, including the tranquil “Preacher” (Lee Jackson) and the kid who is going to Harvard to become a lawyer, Brain Chavez (Jay Hernandez) . We do not care about the fans or the families or the rest of the town, objective the kids, and their performances match those of Thornton in providing a realism that we unbiased do not gather in most of the films in the sports genre.
I really liked this movie until the raze, where the action and the emotions smack too noteworthy of Hollywood, not to mention David versus Goliath, than what had been established up to that point. Level-headed, in the extinguish Berg focuses exactly where he should, on the kids who have finished their high school football careers and the coach who has to immediately launch planning for next year, when Odessa-Permian would again undertake the sacred quest for perfection.
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