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Showing posts with the label hockey (ice)

1996, the best year in movie history, pt. 5: Happy Gilmore

Let’s begin with Roger Ebert’s review (he graded the movie just 1.5 stars out of 4):
Happy Gilmore tells the story of a violent sociopath. Since it’s about golf, that makes it a comedy. …

The Happy Gilmore character is strange. I guess we are supposed to like him. … Yet, as played by [Adam] Sandler, he doesn’t have a pleasing personality: He seems angry even when he’s not supposed to be, and his habit of pounding everyone he dislikes is tiring in a PG-13 movie.
All true. Even so, millions of viewers have found themselves rooting for Happy. They’ve enjoyed his profanity, his violence, his relentless petulance.

Why?

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It isn’t that Happy has a good excuse for his behavior. (The opening monolog, which informs us of a childhood tragedy, is too glib to make us sympathetic.)

Rather, it’s that in the dark recesses of our brains, many of us also feel like using swear words and breaking things. And hurting people: especially, authority figures and rich jerks who look down on everybody else.

Happy Gilmore is a fantasy about acting on these desires and getting away with it.

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In an early sequence, the coach of the local ice hockey team cuts Happy after a tryout.

“Gilmore … Gilmore … I called your number, didn’t I? … Well, better luck next year,” he jeers.

“That wasn’t very nice,” complains Happy, and he punches the coach in the stomach. Arguably, this is an even less nice thing to do, but it manages to be funny because of how Sandler delivers the line. Happy may be violent, but he’s also a whiner, a bit of an Eeyore. As many of us are.

Here’s a screenshot that shows Happy berating a golf ball because it won’t go into the hole.


This is absurd, of course.

So is Luis Suárez’s behavior on the soccer field when he bites rival players. (Suárez even looks a bit like Adam Sandler.)

And yet, at least for me, Suárez’s behavior isn’t so offputting. There’s something universal about his urge to bite people. What’s more, I’m not as put off by Suárez as I am by, e.g., Neymar or Cristiano Ronaldo. Suárez may be petulant, but he lacks the others’ sense of entitlement. This makes him more interesting than the typical spoilt brat.

The same is true of Happy Gilmore.

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Happy finds unlikely success – not in the uncouth world of hockey, but in the snooty one of golf. Alas, his abhorrent personality remains unchanged. He still wants to damage things. He still feels unduly sorry for himself.

His susceptibility to these temptations is aggravated because the culture of golfing is so hateful.

If anyone deserves to have his ass whupped, it’s Happy’s nemesis, Shooter McGavin, the leading golfer on the pro tour. Shooter is just as morally stunted as Happy is. Only, he considers himself entitled to his success, and so he’s more loathsome. Shooter is the Cristiano Ronaldo of the story.

One reason why we root for Happy is that we want him to defeat Shooter. But Shooter is just one antagonist; indeed, Happy has been laughed at his whole life.

The downtrodden – the “unwashed” – consider Happy to be one of their own. They begin to spectate his golfing events. The golfing authorities regard this as a mixed blessing. On the one hand, they’re glad for the rise in TV ratings. On the other, they detest the new fan base. They fear that one day the “unwashed” will exert too much power over the sport.

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In 1996, it might have seemed to viewers that Tonya Harding, the figure skater, was the movie’s real-life inspiration. (Perhaps the movie nods to Harding when it stages the early part of Happy’s athletic career upon the ice.)

Like Happy, Harding came up from oblivion to excel in a snob sport, and she drew a cult following along with the contempt of the “establishment.” In her case, also, violence was at the center of her notoriety.

Nowadays, there’s another intriguing real-life parallel to Happy Gilmore: Donald Trump. Trump’s behavior, like Happy’s, is well beyond the pale. Trump also has ascended because of the media’s willingness to promote a spectacle, and his followers include many who despise the “established” classes (as well they might).

Now that Trump looms larger than anyone else in the country, Happy Gilmore seems prescient. This is an amazing development. I wonder what Ebert would have made of it.

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Recall the sequence that I linked to earlier, in which Happy pummels his hockey coach. After the tryout, Happy goes home and discovers his girlfriend walking out on him. He pleads with her, then insults her, then pleads with her, then insults her. She leaves. Later, Happy tells people that she’s been killed in an accident.

This suggests that Happy is worse than petulant. He’s downright chilling.

Again, I’m reminded of Trump: not because he’s wished a violent death upon an ex-partner (I have no reason to believe that he has) but because of the menace that underlies so many of his actions and words.

And yet Trump is so, so fascinating to watch; and the loathsome career politicians who despise him now must go along with him. I’ve enjoyed seeing them stew.

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In the end, I think Ebert is right: Happy isn’t very likable. And yet many of us root for him. This says something interesting about us, whether or not the movie intends it.

Some baby goats

A blustery, snowy day.

Karin told me: This is supposed to be spring. And I said: This is how springtime always has been – cold.

You can tell it’s springtime because of the baby animals. On Saturday, Karin & I went to the Farmer’s Market to greet this quartet of baby goats.


(I’m pretty sure Jasper weighs at least as much as one of these goats.)

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My cousin Vickie came over for supper, and she met Jasper and Ziva. Jasper went right up to her and chirped. Ziva hid under the bed, but she came out after a while.

Vickie told us about her podcast, The Trafficking Dispatch. (Just to be clear, Vickie opposes human trafficking.) Then we took her to her parents’ house, and we watched the NHL playoffs with her mother, my Aunt Lorena.

Hockey night

Karin & I watched Hockey Night, a modest, Canadian sporting flick from 1984. Everything on the screen reminded me of Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario (the movie’s actual setting is Parry Sound). Megan Follows (Anne of Green Gables) gives a compelling performance.

What a tenderhearted movie this is. We associate sport with youthfulness. The best sporting movies are about coming of age or finding acceptance (or both): think of Breaking Away, Chariots of Fire, Hoop Dreams, Hoosiers, Lucas, My Life as a Dog, Rocky, Rudy

Though Hockey Night is not quite as good, it conveys a similar feeling. Amidst the high drama of competition, the climax of a sporting movie can be surprisingly gentle, as if clouds were parting to reveal the sun.

This reflects the denouement of actual sport. There’s a moment when we quietly understand that all is settled. A scoring play is imminent, or the tide has irreversibly turned; we feel victorious even while we’re still losing (or we foresee defeat while we’re ahead).

Hockey Night understands this. It bypasses the crucial game and goes directly to the locker room.

I’ve viewed no leaner sports movie. Only the first hockey match is played out in detail; the others are hardly shown. We know their outcomes because they are logical consequences of the heart.