Four stars. Rated R, for frequent profanity
By Derrick Bang
Well-crafted underdog sagas are can’t-miss cinema.
Redemption sagas are even better.
This film deftly blends the two, with inspiring results.
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| Former basketball great Jack Cunningham (Ben Affleck, right) initially finds little to love when confronted with the lackadaisical members of the Bishop Hayes High School team; even so, he soon spots untapped potential in some of the squad members. |
Director Gavin O’Connor has an affinity for such material, having previously helmed 2004’s Miracle and 2011’s Warrior; just as crucially, he has an eye and ear for the interpersonal dynamics of people under stress. Given that The Way Back dives deep into the self-destructive anger that arises from unfathomable anguish, O’Connor and co-scripter Brad Ingelsby are blessed by a stand-out performance from star Ben Affleck.
Jack Cunningham (Affleck) works heavy construction by day, just this side of somnambulance after having collapsed into bed, dead drunk, each previous night. He consumes a case of beer during dinner, spends the rest of every evening at his favorite dive bar — where it obviously isn’t good that “everybody knows his name” — and by day conceals straight vodka in his stainless steel travel mug.
He’s taciturn, withdrawn and quick to anger: a barely functioning, late-stage alcoholic.
Family gatherings are tense, more so because of the hostility radiating from his sister, Beth (Michaela Watkins). She’s brittle and critical, neither of which ameliorates the dynamic; we sense her lack of patience results — in part — from long-simmering sibling rivalry. At the same time, we cannot miss the pain in Watkins’ gaze; Beth nonetheless loves her brother, and chafes at her inability to help.
O’Connor and Ingelsby are patient; answers do come, but only eventually and organically, as situations evolve.
Absent some sort of intervention, Jack is on course to drink himself to death. Then, unexpectedly, the fateful phone call: from Bishop Hayes High School, where — 25 years earlier — he was a basketball phenom granted a full university scholarship. Father Edward Devine (John Aylward, making the most of his congenial gruffness) is in desperate need of a replacement basketball coach.
Remembering Jack’s glory days, and unaware of the mess he’s made of his life since then, Father Devine offers him the job.
Jack is stunned into true silence, Affleck giving the moment deer-in-the-headlights perplexity. Jack wrestles with the decision that evening, rehearsing no-thanks phone calls while slowly working through that evening’s case of beer, with the practiced moves of a chronic alcoholic. It’s a fascinating sequence — skillfully edited by David Rosenbloom — because O’Connor elicits both comedy and tragedy as Jack’s condition deteriorates.
We honestly want him to decline, even as we know better (because then we’d not have a movie).
And so it’s with genuine regret that we watch Jack slowly stroll onto Bishop Hayes’ basketball court the following day.
The focus shifts slightly at this point, as we’re introduced to the current misfit members of the team that hasn’t come close to a title since Jack’s long-ago reign. As often is the case with large groups, we get to know only a few of these young men; that said, the core characters are well cast and developed.
Melvin Gregg is all attitude and arrogance as Marcus, a showboater who never learned that there isn’t an “I” in “team”; he can’t be bothered with strategizing, and prefers to shoot at every opportunity … even though his record is a dismal 26 percent. Charles Lott Jr. is “Chubbs” Hendrick, round and proud, who energizes his teammates with sassy pre-game gyrations.
Will Ropp is a smile as Kenny, the cocky resident Romeo, whose off-court dalliances are seriously ill-advised in a Christian high school; he’s a serial womanizer who apparently cares little for each girl left behind, when he bounces to the next one. His personal life notwithstanding, he’s a far better sharpshooter than Marcus.
Brandon Wilson gets the lion’s share of screen time as Brandon, a withdrawn loner with whom Jack immediately identifies, recognizing the signs of an unspoken ache. It’s equally obvious that Brandon is the squad’s most talented player, which has gone unnoticed by everybody else, given the boy’s preference for hovering in the background.
The first crack in Jack’s armor — our first hint of what brought him to this dismal state — occurs when he gives Brandon a ride home: a scene that Affleck and Wilson play superbly.
Even before that, though, it has become clear that Jack is a true basketball savant and unerring judge of on-court potential. As practices progress — and games continue to be lost — Jack seems to shed ever-greater layers of the invisible shroud that has weighted him down for years. (But only metaphorically; Affleck bulked up to 245 pounds, wanting to credibly look like a guy who’d put away several dozen beers every day.)
As the basketball montage sequences continue, it’s tempting to cast off the nervous anxiety with which we viewers have approached the story to this point: the unsettling certainty that something truly awful is just around the corner. (How could it be otherwise?) To their credit, O’Connor and Ingelsby don’t resort to exaggerated contrivance; everything — hopeful and hopeless — proceeds pretty much the way it would in real life.
Which, of course, is what makes their film both uplifting and deeply moving.
Al Madrigal is excellent as Dan, the school’s algebra teacher and part-time assistant basketball coach, who remembers being a freshman bench player when Jack was a senior superstar. Madrigal gives Dan’s gaze a soupçon of idol worship, but he’s also sharply perceptive; he realizes that something isn’t quite right about Jack.
Jeremy Radin is a hoot as team chaplain Father Mark Whelan, who repeatedly insists that Jack’s use of profanity is completely contrary to the school’s moral code. These exchanges are played for gentle humor: a welcome break from the story’s more serious moments, as when the quietly non-judgmental Doc (Glynn Turman) helps Jack back to his apartment each night, when he’s too drunk to walk.
Janina Gavankar is calmly heartbreaking as Jack’s long-separated wife, Angela. Her dialog is minimal, but choice; she also conveys a wealth of emotion via the expectant glance she turns upon Jack during their infrequent meetings, silently hoping to see some sign of improvement. We immediately grasp that she has pulled away as an act of self-preservation, but still loves him; Jack, alas, is incapable of accepting blame.
Rob Simonsen’s piano-based score deftly shadows the story’s emotional highs and lows, with bass-end chords and filigrees lending weight to Jack’s darker moods.
Southern California natives will recognize many of the San Pedro settings, chosen both for their working-class vibe, and easy access to ocean views.
As we near this saga’s conclusion — and its perfect final scene — we finally recognize that O’Connor and Ingelsby have made the most of their “sports as life” metaphor. Just as during a game, when recovering lost points is a matter of dogged baby steps — enough of which eventually yield promising results — the “way back” during a grinding struggle with alcoholism involves similarly tiny victories.
As Affleck acknowledges, from personal experience, “You learn a little; you fall down; you learn a little bit more. It takes what it takes; you get there when you get there.”
One suspects he found this film deeply personal and tremendously rewarding.
I certainly did.
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