Dir. Michael Tollin, 2003, USA, 109 mins
Cast:
Cuba Gooding Jr., Ed Harris, Alfre Woodard, Debra Winger
Radio is based on the true story of the unlikely friendship that developed in a small South Carolina town between a high school football coach Harold Jones (Harris), and a severely handicapped young man, the eponymous 'Radio' (Gooding). After witnessing members of his beloved team harass a truly frightened Radio, Coach Jones takes it upon himself to befriend and nurture the near silent, and initially distrustful young man. Soon a strong friendship grows between the two men, and Radio begins to help out during coaching practice, even becoming a quasi-unofficial mascot for the football team. Although Radio becomes more integrated into the football-obsessed town, there are those who fear this process and question if the time Coach is spending with Radio is (amongst other things) affecting the all-important team's season.
This film presents a very different American Football based situation for Cuba "show me the money" Gooding Jr. than Jerry McGuire, who seems to have based most of his role decisions since his Oscar on this mantra. The role of Radio provides him with a much greater acting challenge than say his woeful mugging during Disney's Snow Dogs. (Though cynics might note that playing a handicapped man is very much an overt attempt to get a second Oscar, rather than a sudden change in priorities.) Gooding's performance is undeniably strong, and often surprisingly understated as the withdrawn and uncommunicative, yet good natured Radio, who wanders around town in his own world with a shopping trolley loaded with his collection of classic radios (hence the nick name). However, the script (Mike Rich, writer of The Rookie, from a Sports Illustrated article) and direction from Michael Tollin do not allow Gooding to take Radio much past the stock character of the clichéd simpleton - a man whose sheer sweetness and generosity will seemingly melt away ingrained prejudices.
Unfortunately, we are never offered a serious attempt to deal with the issues affecting a mentally handicapped person in 1970s America, which surely must have gone far beyond simply being given a "fair" chance, as the film seems to suggest.
Ed Harris' performance as the tough yet good natured Coach Jones is of a high standard and believable, though lacking perhaps anything to make it especially memorable. In fact all the performances in Radio are more than reasonable, but are let down by the veritable cliché checklist of a script. Debra Winger as Jones' wife, Linda, is simply wasted in a role that requires her to do little more than prod her husband to pay more attention to their daughter, and just generally stand by her man. Said daughter, Mary Helen (Sarah Drew), is pretty much a device needed to cry at relevant moments and be understanding of her father's emotional neglect (which is laughably solved by a single, and predictably lateral, confessional explaining why his character feels so compelled to help Radio). And there is of course the Standard of the bigoted white Southerner who just wants things to be done the way they always have, and his son, the cocky team star who instigates the pranks played on Radio, but ever so inevitably learns the error of his ways.
There is a persistent sense of déjà vu as you sit through the earnest and self-righteous talk of teamwork on the field, acceptance and good old honest small town thinking. For example Coach Jones sums up near the film's close, with all the subtlety of a brick: "We're not the ones been teaching Radio; he's the one been teaching us." This is characteristic of a film that generally only ever touches the surface of its subject, dealing instead with broad paint strokes, easily dealt with character conflicts and two-dimensional emotional needs.
Radio is far from a bad film, and no one can fault its message of understanding and compassion, but it is very much a workman-like project. Everything is of a good to middling standard, but never outstanding. The cinematography to leaden and dull, and the period soundtrack somehow fails to resonate. It could quite easily (and perhaps should) have been a TV movie.
Paul Nash
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