+ Interview with Orlando Jones, starring in The Replacements
+ another review of The Replacements by Cynthia Fuchs
Guys
Humor columnist Dave Barry, in his book Dave Barry's
Complete Guide to Guys, describes the difference
between guys and men by noting some qualities that
guys often have. For instance, guys like neat stuff,
are not good at communicating their intimate feelings,
and like a really pointless challenge, which is
exactly what The Replacements is really about -- a
bunch of everyday guys who get the chance to play for
the NFL for five weeks as a result of a players'
strike over salary caps (the story is inspired by a
real-life strike in 1987). These guys --
quarterbacked by ex-college star Shane Falco (Keanu
Reeves) and coached by Jimmy McGinty (Gene Hackman) --
are charged with winning three out of the season's
last four games in order to take the Washington DC
Sentinels to the playoffs. And they agree to play for
what reason, exactly? A really pointless challenge --
they know fully well that, as replacements, they are
replaceable, and their NFL careers will end with the
strike or the season.
Still, the quest for glory does something to a guy.
Shane Falco misses the glory of his Ohio State days,
before the disastrous Sugar Bowl that ended his
football career and bruised his ego. Falco agrees to
lead a team of misfits: intensely violent ex-SWAT team
member named Danny (Jon Favreau); a Japanese sumo
wrestler (Ace Yunomine); Welsh soccer player (Rhys
Ifans, from
Notting Hill) who refuses to give up his cigarette
habit, even on the field; Franklin (Orlando Jones), a
swift mini-mart clerk able to catch shoplifters but
not the ball; a con (Michael Jace, playing the "scary
black felon") on loan for five weeks from a Maryland
state prison; a sweet deaf player, Brian Murphy (David
Denman); and a pair of immense bodyguards (Michael
Taliferro and Faizon Love).
The games are more comedic than they are rough;
although the repeated line, "That's why girls don't
play" lets the audience know just how rough we're
supposed to think the games can be. Somehow, despite
the numerous slapsticky mishaps on and off the field
-- for instance, barfing and brawling -- the team
pulls together in order to win games. They are aided
in their efforts by Falco's love interest, head
cheerleader Annabelle Ferrell (Brooke Langton) and her
squad of exotic dancers, whom she recruits, we assume,
because the regular cheerleaders join the players on
strike (the movie never explains if these cheerleaders
are unionized). Annabelle and company assist the team
by distracting opposing teams with their racy moves
and by giving the replacements female companionship.
We can laugh at and sympathize with both sets of
replacements -- players and cheerleaders -- because
their idiosyncrasies are adorable, at once innocent
and extreme. Despite their clumsy effectiveness as a
team, the players (with the exception of Falco) are
occasions for comedy more than they are "athletes."
And our laughter at their hijinks only highlights
Falco's appeal and normalcy, compared to the rest of
the team. As if to highlight his blandness, the film
sets his scenes to "classic rock." The song during
Falco's final kiss with Annabelle -- David Bowie's
"Heroes" -- made the audience groan when the lyrics
told us, "I will be king, you will be queen, and we
could be heroes." Shane is super nice, standing up for
Brian when he's hassled by the self-absorbed pro
quarterback, Eddie Martel (Brett Cullen). As a result
of Shane's moral stand, the team comes together for
the first time, for a bar fight.
Throughout the film, such guy activity is shot from
ground-level, as if to make it seem ordinary rather
than spectacular. To this end of "familiarity," the
games take on a predictable editing rhythm: the camera
shows the ball hike, cuts to the scantily-clad
cheerleaders, to tackle, to cheerleaders performing
lewd gyrations, to fans' reactions, to touchdown, to
cheerleaders celebrating. Never have I seen a football
movie where the cheerleaders play such an important
role in the development of the game.
Still, it is the guys who predominate the film's
visuals and themes. The Replacements does not ask
the audience to ponder what it means to be an
All-American guy, or where football fits into that
identity. Rather, it tells us what it means, or what
it's supposed to mean. To be an All American guy, you
have to be able to 1) take a hit on the field, 2) take
a punch at the bar, 3) drink beer anywhere, 4) be
attracted to women, and 5) love and know how to play
football. On the other hand, to be a good woman, you
have to be an exotic dancer, look great in a
cheerleader costume, and drive badly (as Annabelle
does during an early comic scene).
The film presents these stereotypes as funny and easy
to swallow, because they are common. In other words,
viewers are -- as usual -- encouraged to laugh at the
un-beautiful people of the world. A trite montage
showing cheerleader tryouts is a prime example:
picture a series of awkward, overweight or otherwise
"weird" women attempting the roger rabbit. And yet,
The Replacements is bearable, mainly because of its
utter lack of pretense, its focus on glory for regular
guys, not prima donna pros. Still, the replacements
achieve their brilliance through their moment in the
NFL, a moment not available to most everyday joes.
Their own daily lives can't bring them the glory they
desire, so they settle for football.