Friday Night Lights

Review by: Ray Dademo
RayDademo@TheCinemaSource.com

You’ll notice it within the first twenty minutes; something is wrong –
definitely wrong. There are rapid, almost vicious jump cuts. What’s
happened to the sprawling long-shots of gridiron glory? When will we see
heroism played out in the age-old art of slow-motion? This can’t be
football. The colors are strangely muted. Football fields seem less than
their usual vibrant green, and yet, somehow, blood and dirt are more vivid
than ever. Where are we? Certainly, not a football stadium (at least, not
any I’ve ever seen captured on film).

All that seems wrong with the world we’ve entered is, in actuality, what
is so very right about it. Friday Night Lights, the newest entry in that most everlasting of genres — the “sports film” — forsakes every tired
cliché and rejuvenates in a hackneyed and tired formula. All of our old
friends are here: the father-figure coach, the cocky, preening
star-player, the stoic, quarterback-of-few-words. Still, something is
different. In Friday Night Lights, the players aren’t heroes. Hell, they
aren’t even men. These football players, upon whom the entire town of
Odessa, Texas places their greatest hopes and dreams, are boys. They drink
chocolate milk and fiddle with toy cars. They are able to score
touchdowns, yes — but what does that matter if they can’t evade the grasp
of their overbearing mothers and abusive fathers?

The basic premise of Friday Night Lights is nearly identical to 1999's
Varsity Blues. Somewhere in Texas, football exists as the soul of a small
blue-collar town, where every citizen seems to have a championship ring,
and on game-night, the streets go dark. With all eyes on the home team,
players become gods among men, and achieve an unparalleled level of fame
within their community.

Thankfully, a simple outline cannot begin to explain what exists at the
core of this movie. And perhaps even more thankfully, Friday
Night Lights is nothing like Varsity Blues. That film portrayed its
players as good-natured, square-jawed studs whose skills on the field
earned them the admiration of their district and some pretty magnificent
rewards. The impossibly handsome athletes enjoyed pampering from their
fellow citizens, and what seemed like a non-stop orgy of female
admiration. Here, the proceedings are decidedly less glamorous. The blonde beauties in whipped-cream bikinis are nowhere to be found. Instead, we get the before and after of an apathetic romp with the “trailer-park-hot” town slut. For Odessa’s athletes, there is no prize for their hard-won record (unless you consider a Rice Krispie Treat statue of
yourself a prize… I don’t). The spoils of victory, like their recipients are oddly childish. All anyone seems to get plenty of, is pressure.

The unique perspective with which Friday Night Lights perceives its
characters is the top-notch work of director Peter Berg and the fine
screenplay he co-wrote with

David Aaron Cohen. The central questions are
tackled brilliantly in the film’s first act, and never abandoned
afterwards. Choosing to intercut the Permian Panthers’ first practice with
conversation in the stands, constant interviews with players, and the
omnipresent local press, Berg shows right away that nothing this team does
is private. Through success and failure, the town of Odessa is watching
and judging. Billy Bob Thornton plays Coach Gary Gaines as a man caught
between the well-being of his players and the fervent demands of his town.
His subtlety serves the role well, and his ability to express strength
under great strain is what, ultimately, makes his performance so winning
(after all, football coaches don’t seem prone to catharsis or crises of
conscience). Lucas Black (Thornton’s unusual ward from Sling Blade),
radiates great amounts of sweetness beneath a tortured exterior as the
Panthers’ star quarterback, and Derek Luke is terrific (not to mention
unbearably poignant, in one scene) as the swaggering running back.

The citizens of Odessa are fanatically involved in the adventures of
their resident football team. We’ve seen this on film before, and yet
here, an overwhelming sense of “Why?” pervades the air. To see the team
suffer injury, heartbreak, and abuse, all at the expense of game, seems
strangely pointless. Why do these people take football so seriously? When
an abusive ex-footballer (an excellent Tim McGraw) attempts to explain
his brutal behavior to his son, the question is answered, at long last.

His cruelty is not the result of hatred, but rather, a frustrated kind of
love. Simply put, he wants his son to have the only luxury football can
afford: a pleasant memory. Memory, it seems, is all that can stand up to
the brutal realities of life in Odessa, Texas. It's then, that it all
becomes clear. The hope of Odessa lies in the hands of children, for just
one football season. For the fans, it's a chance to see all of their past
glories reclaimed; to feel hopeful in a town that lacks hope. For the
players, it’s the chance to, once and for all, have a triumph to call
their own.

Movie Grade: A-

Synopsis:

Based on the book about high school football by H.G. Bissinger, Friday Night Lights chronicles the entire 1988 season of the Permian High Panthers of Odessa, Texas, with football players, coaches, mothers, fathers, boosters, fans and families struggling with ongoing personal conflicts while the team fights for a state championship. In depicting the daily grind of coach Gary Gaines’ (Billy Bob Thornton) winning team and the potential destinies of its individual players, the story paints a vivid portrait of Odessa (and places like it all across

America) where, once a week during the fall, the town and its dreams come alive beneath the dazzling and disorienting Friday night lights…when the Panthers take to the field. Friday Night Lights illuminates the hopes and dreams of Odessa’s townsfolk, who ardently fill Ratliff Stadium’s 20,000 seats every Friday night. For the young men of the team, every moment, every play is a chance to transcend their small town and the fleeting fulfillment of a gridiron stardom whose pinnacle may be reached by the time they turn 18.