We’ve enjoyed an impressive run of fact-based sports sagas during the past year — Nyad, The Boys in the Boat and Young Woman and the Sea leap to mind — but in terms of amazing actual events, this one’s the best.
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| As JB (Jay Hernandez, standing center) quietly waits, a clearly surprised Frank (Dennis Quaid) absorbs the passion that these boys possess, for the game of golf... and then agrees to coach their fledgling high school team. |
And — oh, yes — it’s also about golf: defined so superbly in 2000’s The Legend of Bagger Vance as “a game that cannot be won, only played.”
Quintana and co-scripters Paco Farias and Jennifer C. Stetson based their story on Humberto G. Garcia’s 2012 nonfiction book, Mustang Miracle ... and they didn’t need to change much. The actual events are cinematic all by themselves.
The year is 1956, the setting Del Rio, Texas. World War II veteran JB Pena (Jay Hernandez) and his wife, Lucy (Jaina Lee Ortiz) have just moved into town; he has accepted a job as superintendent of the local (segregated) high school. He also loves to golf, and hopes to become a member of the local San Felipe Country Club.
Alas, sponsorship by close friend and war buddy Frank Mitchell (Dennis Quad) isn’t enough to overcome the club’s color barrier, or the patronizing attitudes of Judge Milton Cox (Brett Cullen) and club director Don Glenn (Richard Robichaux), who function as this story’s racist villains.
“I’m afraid there’s just no place for you here,” JB is told.
Both Cullen and Robichaux are persuasively snobbish and condescending, to a degree that makes one want to reach into the screen and smack them.
Of course, the club’s white members have no trouble hiring Latino high school kids as caddies, as long as they “know their place.” Toe the line, and they might even get a five-cent tip.
But here’s the thing: A quintet of young men, led by Joe Treviño (Julian Works), happily hire on as caddies ... because it’s a way to earn some money, but mostly because they love the game. The group includes Lupe Felan (José Julián), Mario Lomas (Christian Gallegos), Felipe Romero (Miguel Angel Garcia) and Gene Vasquez (Gregory Diaz IV).
And since they can’t play on San Felipe’s immaculately sculpted fairways, they’ve carved their own makeshift practice range on some nearby open land, bare-handedly removing cactus and other shrubs, and digging and smoothing a “green.”
(As detailed in David Courtney’s fascinating Texas Monthly article, the boys ultimately built themselves a nine-hole course that they jokingly dubbed El Llanito Country Club. This film focuses on the initial single-hole beginnings ... but that’s more than enough to get the point across.)
The boys come to JB’s attention after an unusual display of golfing skill. Intrigued, and aware that this high school lacks its own golf team (the very notion is laughable), he nonetheless suggests that they fill that void. Four of them are sold immediately, but Joe — with a serious chip on his shoulder — isn’t convinced.
Joe comes by this attitude honestly, thanks to a gruff father (Jimmy Gonzales) who long ago abandoned any hope of surmounting the racial barrier, and warns his son that white players wouldn’t take him seriously, and would simply make fun of him.
But JB wants to punch through that barrier. Hernandez is wholly persuasive at such moments; JB knows the boys are talented, and he wants to make as visible a statement as possible: “The most important thing,” he insists, “is for people to see Mexicans golfing.”
No surprise: Joe eventually comes around, in part thanks to Daniela Torres (Paulina Chávez), soon to become his girlfriend.
But it’s a tricky path to maneuver, with mutually exclusive goals. On the one hand, JB and the boys want to feel proud of their heritage ... but JB also insists, as they begin to compete against teams from white-only schools, that Joe and his teammates tuck in their shirts, and avoid speaking Spanish.
It’s a delicate dance that’ll be recognized by anybody who has felt disenfranchised. Quintana and his scripters don’t overly emphasize this point; it’s simply part of the story’s landscape.
The film also slyly depicts the frustrating traps involved, on two key occasions. JB and the boys are “too Mexican” to be served by the loutish cook and waitress in a roadside diner, but — when the boys briefly cross the border, to visit Mexico — they’re jeered by locals for being “too American.”
More subtly, when Daniela later expresses a desire to become a writer, Joe reflexively discourages her ... little realizing that he’s parroting his father’s earlier words and attitude.
A lesser script would have made Lucy merely JB’s loving and supportive wife, but that isn’t the case here. Ortiz’s quietly nuanced performance has tantalizing layers: Lucy fights her own quiet battles, to be recognized as a woman who’s far more than an appendage of her husband. As just one detail, she also golfs ... and probably quite well. (We never get to find out.)
Cheech Marin has a whimsical supporting role as Pollo, the country club groundskeeper: always wearing a protective cage, to prevent being hit by golf balls. At first blush it’s a laughable visual, but Pollo dons it with such solemnity, that it becomes a de facto uniform of respect. He’s also something of a Yoda figure, dispensing dollops of wisdom — and unexpected treasures — at key moments.
Quaid’s Frank is brash and boozy, but also shrewdly perceptive; he can sense when caution and restraint become necessary, lest JB and his team become perceived as “too uppity.” They are, he reminds them, playing a very “long game.”
My sole lament is that Works’ performance is so strong, as a young man struggling to get out of his own way, that Joe overshadows his four friends. Lupe, Mario, Felipe and Gene never stand out as individuals; each gets a telling line here and there, but we’ve no sense of their home lives or ambitions (beyond golf).
Production designers Carlos Osorio and John Parker recreate this modest, mid-century Texas community with unerring precision; the sense of time and place is impeccable. Cinematographer Alex Quintana — the director’s brother — balances the harsh, hard-scrabble landscape of the boys’ practice hole, against the impossibly verdant beauty of the country club courses.
Quintana and editor James K. Crouch adeptly juggle all these characters and events; our attention never wanders during the film’s 112 minutes. Hanan Townshend’s gentle score commendably enhances the story’s many emotional arcs.
The Long Game builds to a climax that’ll have viewers cheering. You can’t ask more of a film such as this.
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