Review of White Men Can't Jump (1992) by Good B — 16 Aug 2018

A good movie about sports functions effectively like an actual sports game: For whatever reason, we emotionally invest ourselves in the success of the people playing the game, so that when they win, the audience vicariously gets to share in their enjoyment. The viewer feels the tension of an impossible shot along with the player, takes part in the visceral glee of success, acting as the sixth man on the sidelines, no less a part of the team than those actually playing. No doubt that structure repeats itself beautifully in WMCJ, but what makes the movie stand apart from other sports movies is how frequently and how terribly these characters lose-not at the game itself, but at the larger game of life. It's a lesson made explicit in the film, and one that is rare to see played out: "There are times that when you win, you lose, and when you lose, you win.".

More often than not, movies about sports will make lip service to the humbling idea that "this is just a game," but nonetheless imbue all the subjective transference into a final moment where the player beats the odds and wins big, taking home the trophy and the girl and the prize bag and the glory. Insofar as the drama off the court affects or complements or allegorizes the drama on the court, the big final game is presented as the total climax for the emotional journey. What other lessons are learned, about being a team player or not quitting or whatever, come to fruition in the final moments of play, lifting our hero to athletic heights not yet reached. That fantasy is best exemplified here not by the two male leads, but by the terrific Rosie Perez, whose journey to win at Jeopardy subverts the standard machismo physicality of the genre but nonetheless much better fits the ordinary mold of these films.

Here, however, there are no simply happy endings, no buzzer-beating moments or walk-off home runs; writer/director Shelton is far more interested in what happens after the game than the journey beforehand. Snipes and Harrelson, who have an electric chemistry throughout, are both stellar ballers from the start and need to learn no lessons in order to win the championship or beat any challengers in the end. Rather, the central drama has everything to do with their mutual inability to reconcile with their own talent, their failure to see it as "just a game" and leave it all on the court. Winning is not good enough for either player, who are both competitive to the point of self-destruction, but especially for Harrelson, whose compulsive gambling addiction causes him to lose more than any other character in a sports movie I can remember. In the end, what makes WMCJ so much more compelling than its generic peers is the failures of its characters, not their successes, the way they lose when they win and win when they lose.