Hoosiers
Karin & I watched Hoosiers tonight. It was the first time Karin had seen it. I’d seen it many times, but not for several years.
The kitties watched with us.
John-Paul: “Jasper, are you a Hoosier?”
Karin (for Jasper): “Yes, I’m a son of the state.”
The last time I’d seen Hoosiers, I was living in upstate New York. Somehow, this time, I didn’t recall that Norman Dale (the Gene Hackman character) had coached in Ithaca.
On this viewing, I was unsettled by how awfully the Indiana townspeople treat Norman. What always used to seem like a plot device or local color or even comedy this time impressed me as straightforwardly realistic. The self-loathing townspeople are suspicious of any assured outsider who’ll settle among them; they set themselves against Norman from the beginning. “Upstanding” citizens, men who hold power, nearly run Norman out of town; but the same poisoned attitude is evinced by an “enlightened” schoolteacher (Barbara Hershey).
Yes, I thought, I’ve seen this sort of thing in Indiana (and not only in Indiana).
Of course, by the end of the movie, Norman has repaired the basketball team and steered it toward glory, gaining the town’s allegiance and pulling up some of its sad-sacks (the players, the aforementioned teacher, and, especially, the town drunk, movingly portrayed by Dennis Hopper). It’s hard not to rejoice in the conclusion. “That was such a nice movie,” Karin said; and I agree.
Whether the ending is credible depends on whether one believes in divine grace. Norman isn’t much of a Christian; apart from that detail, though, he is a tenacious missionary.
Let me be clear that I haven’t intended to denigrate Hoosiers, even if this time I’ve viewed it with a jaded perspective. This is my dear grandpa’s favorite movie – and with good reason. What it celebrates about Indiana, it shows lovingly and truly. The best thing about the movie is its compassion – for a people, and for the worker who goes to them. This is evident from the first shots of him traveling, lonely, between fields at dawn, surveying the countryside, hoping for a new beginning.
The kitties watched with us.
John-Paul: “Jasper, are you a Hoosier?”
Karin (for Jasper): “Yes, I’m a son of the state.”
The last time I’d seen Hoosiers, I was living in upstate New York. Somehow, this time, I didn’t recall that Norman Dale (the Gene Hackman character) had coached in Ithaca.
On this viewing, I was unsettled by how awfully the Indiana townspeople treat Norman. What always used to seem like a plot device or local color or even comedy this time impressed me as straightforwardly realistic. The self-loathing townspeople are suspicious of any assured outsider who’ll settle among them; they set themselves against Norman from the beginning. “Upstanding” citizens, men who hold power, nearly run Norman out of town; but the same poisoned attitude is evinced by an “enlightened” schoolteacher (Barbara Hershey).
Yes, I thought, I’ve seen this sort of thing in Indiana (and not only in Indiana).
Of course, by the end of the movie, Norman has repaired the basketball team and steered it toward glory, gaining the town’s allegiance and pulling up some of its sad-sacks (the players, the aforementioned teacher, and, especially, the town drunk, movingly portrayed by Dennis Hopper). It’s hard not to rejoice in the conclusion. “That was such a nice movie,” Karin said; and I agree.
Whether the ending is credible depends on whether one believes in divine grace. Norman isn’t much of a Christian; apart from that detail, though, he is a tenacious missionary.
Let me be clear that I haven’t intended to denigrate Hoosiers, even if this time I’ve viewed it with a jaded perspective. This is my dear grandpa’s favorite movie – and with good reason. What it celebrates about Indiana, it shows lovingly and truly. The best thing about the movie is its compassion – for a people, and for the worker who goes to them. This is evident from the first shots of him traveling, lonely, between fields at dawn, surveying the countryside, hoping for a new beginning.