The Dream Business
"That kid has talent! Mad skills!" Though this line
is uttered by one Coach Griffin (Michael Clarke
Duncan), it's clear that this is exactly what every
character in They Call Me Sirr thinks about young
Sirr Parker, star cornerback, devoted older brother to
Donyea, and very nice person. We might assume that the
real-life Parker (now 23 years old and coming off his
rookie season with the Cincinnati Bengals) is all of
these things, but Robert Munic's film makes him look
near-saintly, miring him in sports-flick and hood
movie cliches until the poor kid can hardly move, no
matter how mad his skills may be.
Unfortunately titled to call up memories of a couple
of Sidney Poitier's most famous films (To Sir, With Love and They Call Me Mr. Tibbs!), They Call Me Sirr is one of those "famous black individual"
movies, extolling the kid's extraordinary triumph over
adversity in a way that is so cliched that you end up
feeling grumpy and guilty that you can't feel good for
him. The film never actually tells you why Parker's
mother named him Sirr (though you might guess, as the
press notes explain, that she had in mind to "ensure
him respect"). The film begins with a voice over, in
which the teenaged Parker (played by the charismatic
Kente Scott) reminisces, "It's funny how some things
stick in your mind, no matter how hard you try to cut
them loose... The one thing I always remember making
sense to me was football." As a means to introduce our
hero's difficult situation -- living in South Central
Los Angeles, abandoned by his junkie mom Sharon (Novie
Edwards), being raised by his ailing Grams (Jackie
Richardson), and finding his talent and salvation in
playing football -- this is a seriously bland bit of
narration, its lack of originality underlined by the
fact that it accompanies a series of black and white
images of the boy and his ball.
As a child, Sirr has a couple of clean-looking banger
friends, Damian (Chris Collins) and Dante (Doron Bell,
Jr.), who look out for him, cheering him on at
football games, refusing to let him participate in
gang activities, and, most remarkably, never aging a
day, even while Sirr himself is played by three actors
(first by Trevonne Chung, then Kyle Kassardjian, and
finally, Scott). "You got the gift, Sirr" declares
Dante. Or again, "This ain't your life, Sirr. Your
life is much bigger!" As well, the D's help Sirr take
care of his little brother Donyea (Tyson Fennell, then
Jordan Fennell), whom Sharon leaves with him during a
brief, tearful, and painfully trite almost-reunion
scene. Marked as an addict by her
dark-circles-under-the-eyes makeup and shambling
affect, Sharon approaches Sirr and her mother on the
sidewalk, infant swaddled in her arms. When cute
little Sirr gives her the evil eye and asks why she
hasn't called, it's just too much. Sharon loses her
cool, hands her baby over to Grams, and runs off down
the street, with the camera looking after her from the
boy's point of view.
Such movie-of-the-weekish insta-plotting happens
again and again in They Call Me Sirr, simplifying
emotions so they're identifiable -- and painfully
familiar from previous movies and TV -- in 20 seconds
or less. Repeatedly, you see Sirr grappling with his
feelings and demands on his time, both needing and
resenting his mom, loving and stressing about
football, washing dishes to support his brother and
(I'm out of breath just listing all this...) getting
good grades. A couple of montages show Sirr taking
care of the baby, reading his weighty American History tome, and hauling ass to football practice.
Then, bing!, he's old enough for high school, at which
time he meets his greatest mentor, Coach Griffin, who
first appears looming in the foreground of a shot, his
mouth wide and voice booming as he yells at his
players, driving them to excel. As soon as Coach
catches one glimpse of Parker on the field, he knows
all he needs to know, and comes by the house (which,
he helpfully reminds his assistant, he never does!) to
insist the boy play for his Monroe High School team.
This is an opportunity too fabulous to pass up, as it
will inevitably lead to Sirr being scouted by colleges
(he ends up at Texas A&M). "I'm not in the dream
business," Coach assures Grams. "I deal in reality."
Right.
The saga continues, organized like Love & Basketball, by "quarters" (1st, 2nd, etc.), and
celebrating Sirr's huge heart, as well as setting up
little snippets of story -- Sirr's grandma dies (after
a scene or two where she coughs ominously), his
teammate is killed by gang members, and his homeboys
are involved in a drive-by shooting, artfully intercut
with a football game, so that slow-motion bodies are
flying every whichway. Gee, do you think the sequence
is suggesting that violence is the American Way? You
could say that subtlety is not this movie's strong
suit. You could also say that it doesn't do right by
its subject. While Sirr Parker's story is inspiring
and moving, They Call Me Sirr is anything but.