Worlds collided at last night's SILVERDOCS opening screening and after-party. While someone like Ira Glass might qualify as a mega-star personal appearance for the documentary aficionados that make up the festival's core audience, last night brought star power of a completely different sort, as basketball phenom LeBron James (and entourage) showed up for last night’s screening of More Than a Game. The film documents the domination James and his teammates (collectively, the Fab 5) held over the world of high school basketball in the early '00s. Excited fans lined the red carpet for James' arrival, and the Blair High School marching band even performed inside the theater. After the screening, the band led everyone across the street to the Discovery building for the after-party, at which local rapper Wale performed to a largely dance-resistant crowd. When a DJ later tried to whip the crowd into a party mood by asking if anyone wanted to hear some go-go, he was largely met with blank stares. Not even a choice Backyard Band track could get those bodies moving.
I'm not trying to give them a hard time. They were there for the film, of course, not a hip-hop dance party, and More Than a Game delivered enthusiastic and appreciative rounds of applause. It's the sort of crowd-pleaser that only the hardest of hearts could sit through without feeling the warm glow of inspiration. While not a particularly great documentary, it succeeds hugely at what it sets out to do, aided by a dramatic storyline that would probably be dismissed as too fantastically implausible if it was in a fiction film. And the fact that the story was documented at all was a stroke of pure luck for director Kristopher Belman.
The story goes that Belman was taking an intro to documentary class at Loyola Marymount's film & media school and, in order to deflect the derision of his classmates for his humble smalltown roots, decided to make a short documentary about a local high school basketball team back home in Akron that was getting some national attention. The team was St. Vincent–St. Mary, which featured a core of five young men, four of whom who'd been playing together since grade school, who were tearing apart any team that stepped onto a court with them. Even after his ten minute short film was complete (Belman likes to mention, frequently, how he only got a B+), the director kept going back to the school with his cameras, continuing to document the team as they nearly reached the top, fell apart when the fame became too much, and then struggled back up until they finally won the national high school championship as seniors. But it took years after that to assemble the film, as Belman couldn't find anyone interested in his footage beyond putting together a highlight reel of a young LeBron James.
Credit Belman for sticking to his guns. He probably could have taken all that James footage to the bank years ago, and More Than a Game is a far better film that it might have been had he let someone without his obvious personal investment in the characters take the reins. Unfortunately, that personal investment also steers Belman towards a certain Disney-fication of the story. Which makes it a great, and in some ways valuable, teaching tool for kids, showing them the value of teamwork, unity, and hard work. But beyond that, there is a great deal of fascinating material that the director never pursues.
One of the most maddening is his decision, in a film that is ostensibly about the value of a team over any one individual or personality, to completely ignore any other player who played on St. V's during the Fab 5's tenure. Yes, it's a film specifically about these five young men, but it's also about the astounding accomplishment of this team, and while there are always other players around, getting time in practice and in the games, they remain as anonymous as extras. At the very least it would have been interesting to talk to some of them about what it was like being on the periphery of the publicity being given to the Five, and James in particular.
Also disappointing is Belman's unwillingness to delve into the thornier issues. He's more than happy to talk about the unfortunate backgrounds some of the boys came from and how they overcame significant hurdles to meet with their ultimate success; that fits into his pull-yourself-up-by-your-hightop-laces message. But when James is suspended from play for giving up his amateur status by accepting gifts with monetary value, the director only treats it as a dramatic plot point in his narrative. The issue of teenage boys being treated like professional athletes, of the gifts, the girls, the constant media scrutiny, is only important here inasmuch as it impacts their relationships with one another, and ultimately, their play on the court.
Luckily, the filmmakers create an environment in which it's easy to forget about such missed opportunities and just go along for the ride. The film is a grand achievement of editing, slickly weaving together Belman's behind the scenes footage with home movies, game films, media clips, and modern-day interviews, and using emotionally charged music to pull the viewer into the current. As documentaries go, it's the equivalent of the summertime action-packed thrill-ride, with a healthy dose of traditional sporting-film inspiration thrown in. And if we don't fault summer blockbusters for lacking higher aspirations, maybe it's wrong to fault More Than a Game for not seeking to be anything more than it is, particularly when so many producers would have made so much less out of it.
More Than a Game screens again at SILVERDOCS on Sunday at 8:30 p.m.



Wale is the truth.
On "The Mayor for Life" grading scale, I give him 5 out of 5 fedoras.
Queen James on the other hand...
then struggled back up until they finally won the national high school championship as seniors
I realize this is nitpicking, but I don't think there's actually a real "national high school championship" in any team sport in the U.S. If the team was ranked #1 in the country it was based on sportswriters and polling, not on any kind of structured, on-court competition. If you think the whole BCS situation is a mess, imagine trying to come up with a play-off system that will accommodate tens of thousands of high schools of varying sizes, or even just the several hundred "state champions" . . .
I'll admit to some ignorance when it comes to how the "national championship" is determined for high schools. I guess they were technically the USA Today National Champions for 2003 as determined by ranking. But in the movie that's presented in such a way that the kids play a deciding national championship game at the end of the 2002 and 2003 seasons, one of which they lose, losing them the national championship, the other of which they win. There is mention of the ranking system, and no mention of a tournament per se, but it's definitley meant to suggest that there is a singular deciding game. If that's not really the case, it's not surprising; as I mentioned, the movie is edited to attain maximum dramatic tension.