Cynical Cinema

My step-kids wanted to watch The Game Plan, available now on Rogers On Demand.  And much as the idea didn’t appeal to me, I felt as though I should capitulate, because after all, they were excited about the football covered in glitter.  (Or, as it turns out, “bedazzled”.)  So I paid the $5.99, and tried to find six dollars worth of enjoyment from the film.  And sadly, I cam up about five bucks short.  There are very few films, for kids or otherwise, that are more formulaic than the Game Plan.  The Rock, you see, is a pro football player with a massive contract, a massive condominium, a massive following and a massive ego.  All of a sudden, a small girl shows up at his house claiming to be his daughter.  He doesn’t question the claim, since it seems fairly likely to him that this girl’s mother (who is apparently some kind of philanthropist saint) would just leave her, unattended, on the doorstep of the father who never knew she existed. 

This would not, to most of us, make sense even if the mother was a crack-addled junkie prostitute (which she isn’t - this is a Disney movie).  You see, if a mother is so messed up that she would be willing to leave a girl in a situation like this, she would not have the werewithal to get the girl to the apartment.  And if she was indeed the wonderful person that The Rock and the little girl agree she is, she would never do something this insane.  One would think she would at least call first.  Or something.  But The Rock’s willingness to leave the whole situation unquestioned, his publicist’s failure to think anything through, and the stupidity of those around him, mean that these questions go unasked and unanswered.  Which is essential to the movie, or the big revelation at the end would come in the first two minutes.  And frankly, it should.  There is no reason we couldn’t have found out the real reason this little girl is there right away.  The same thing would have happened.

This egomaniac quarterback never throws to open teammates if he can run twenty yards to paydirt instead.  He considers himself above the team and above the sport.  He is a glory hound to the detriment of those around him, especially his team.  But his team doesn’t question that.  At all.  They still love him, because he’s the party-guy playboy with the sweet apartment where they all party.  No bad blood from the receivers who don’t get their due, no bitterness from the temmates who are unjustly overshadowed.  It’s a life of blissful ignorance and ease.  Until the little girl shows up, and teaches him what he can really be, and what’s important in life, and blah blah blah.  Sure, she’s cute and sweet and childish and so forth, but she’s also smarter than he is, more perceptive, better grounded…she’s six.  And the only reason she is six is that this way Disney can set up all the standard pratfalls for a movie like this one.  He gets covered in foam.  She puts a skirt on the bulldog.  The blender makes a mess in the kitchen.  She bedazzles his prize football.  And he falls down a lot.  Haha.

The one thing that bugged me the most about the movie, however, was the fact that they didn’t seem to have the rights to anything.  The Rock plays “Professional Football” for a team based in Boston called the “Rebels”.  His team is competing for the “Championship trophy”.  Why wouldn’t you be able to say Super Bowl?  Or New England Patriots, or the NFL?  There are dozens of other movies that use those words.  Even Disney has already used “NFL” in a movie, a movie about a real-life guy on a real-life team, called Invincible.  Mark Wahlberg played Vince Papale, a walk-on from Philadelphia who made the Eagles in the 70s.  So we know they would be allowed to use these things if they wanted, or if they were willing to pay enough money.  So why not?  It’s really irritating hearing all these generic words like “Football Championship Trophy”, a trophy which, when you see it, bears a striking resemblance to the Super Bowl trophy.  Or, the Vince Lombardi trophy, if you will.

There are a lot of cameos from real football players and analysts.  Boomer Esiason, Marv Albert, Jim Gray, Stuart Scott, and Steven Levy all show up.  But they can’t say NFL?  And then he starts endorsing something called “Fanny’s Burgers”.  What, they couldn’t get McDonalds or Burger King to pay massive dollars for a product placement?  Or was it because the kid keeps saying that they make you fat and give you gas?  So he ends up doing endorsements for a burger chain that sounds as appealing as Krusty Burger.  And of course, the whole movie has to be peppered with the most brutal football talk in movie history.  Everything that comes out of the Rock’s mouth is a football reference, from the playbook to the post pattern to the buttonhook to, of course, the Game Plan.  It’s so forced and contrived that it almost makes me cringe even thinking about it now.  This is some of the worst dialogue in Disney history.

There is one reason to watch The Game Plan.  Roselyn Sanchez is smoking hot as the little girl’s ballet instructor Monique.  But her involvement in the movie is also a painful cliche, so it almost cancels out the hotness.  Almost.  Sanchez being as hot and flexible as she is is worth one dollar.  That leaves five dollars worth of movie rental that I am wanting back.  At least the kids liked it.  But then, they are unfamiliar with terms like “NFL”, “Burger King”, “flea flicker”, and “giant pile of crap”.