Review

Review Date: 15-February-04
Spoiler Rating: Medium
Juju Judgment: Juicy

Miracle (2004)

Although it comes out of a well known sound byte from the 1980 Olympic Winter Games, I still think that "Miracle" is the wrong title for this film. According to the movie itself, the US hockey team's wholly unexpected victory over the unbeaten and unbeatable Soviets did not result from serendipity or divine intervention, but rather from vision, chemistry, chutzpah, and a lot of hard work. If this is true (and I suspect it is), it's fitting that the big-screen recounting of the tale succeeds through similar qualities, instead of the easier and more obvious sap and sensationalism. For anybody interested in sports, the underdog, or what it takes to be a leader (or just a good story, plainly told), "Miracle" offers an engrossing and moving experience.

Like millions of Americans, I remember how exciting it was to root for the youthful upstarts who took Lake Placid by storm 24 years ago. In my girlish fascination, I shed a tear for goalie Jim Craig and his bereaved father, and I had crushes on all of the players, particularly captain Mike Eruzione (if we married, you see, my initials would spell my husband's first name). Back then, they all seemed like big men to me; now, their movie incarnations look like slightly overgrown boys. But the crushes remain, thanks to an excellent cast of athletes-turned-actors such as Patrick O'Brien Demsey, whose gold-medal-caliber cuteness does Eruzione justice.

However, as appealing and important as the players are, "Miracle" centers primarily on their less huggable but no less captivating coach, Herb Brooks (Kurt Russell). The movie claims that Brooks was unique in recognizing that talent and tradition could never hope to match the invincibility of the communist teams, and that the US needed a new level of creativity and rigor to produce players able to beat the Soviets at their own game. In a fabulous performance that speaks much louder than his horrible '70s pants (no easy feat, I assure you), Russell depicts Brooks as a determined man who could be very harsh but always knew exactly what he was doing. The movie aims to soften his character by showing relationships with his wife (Patricia Clarkson) and assistant coach (the wonderful Noah Emmerich), and although the scenes of Brooks' family life feel perfunctory, they're rescued from absolute triteness by the integrity of the actors.

I find it both amazing and admirable that screenwriter Eric Guggenheim and director Gavin O'Connor didn't settle for flag-waving in this picture (and that they had a star capable of imbuing the film with a quieter sort of power).* True, there is a manifest attempt to interpret the team's victories as a balm for a nation smarting from a turbulent decade and troubles in Iran, but O'Connor weaves the social/historical elements into the film in a way that provides context as much as self-promotion. He also manages to bring the larger themes down to the personal level, where the heart of the story lies. In one memorable scene, he uses a voice-over of Jimmy Carter speaking about the end of America's optimism while showing the boys playing football on Christmas Eve; their youth and potential suddenly seem more frail and precious. And while it's clear that Brooks pushed his charges so hard largely for personal reasons (he was cut from the 1960 Olympic hockey team just a week before they went off and won gold), he appears not to be seeking lost glory but striving to make sure that other promising young men don't experience the pain of defeat. In directing his own desire and resolution outward, he gives a great gift to his team and, incidentally, to his countrymen. If the film portrays his role in the triumph accurately, Brooks (who died in a car crash last year) fully deserves recognition as the worker of this particular "Miracle."

*Others may point to the literal flag-waving that goes on among crowds in this movie, but I suggest that one always flaunts the colors of the team for which he or she happens to be cheering, and in this case ... well, you see my point.

Copyright © 2004 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.