Friedkin outlines Nick Nolte's Coach Bell as a guy who's on the spot. Shoulders arched and head low, Bell moves through unadorned halls, overcrowded locker rooms. "There's not one of you that's learned how to win!" He thunders out, slamming the door only to come back to heave a water tank across the room and trudge out again. On the court, fans shouting, cheerleaders abound, band playing, Bell's face is anxious, his fuse lit again. Cries and chaos churn around Bell like he's within a bulldozer. His university team plays vigorously, but drop the ball, miss hoops. He hangs a towel overhead to shield his eyes. At loggerheads with a ref, Bell kicks the ball up into the stands and is disqualified. After winning national championships, Nolte's Bell is at risk of having his first losing season. And joblessness.
He could procure blue chip prospects, giving them cash, cars, etc. But in two respects he's unable to take advantage. Primarily, "if I break the rules I get kicked out of coaching." Next, "I might not get caught." It's Bell's ethical predicament. Blue Chips is not about the fight for victory but the fight to defeat. That's the appeal. Bell's passion for winning forces him to be disloyal to himself. Contempt comes in the figure of J.T. Walsh's gladly corrupt, obnoxious alum. When Bell refuses his first proposal of money to draft blue chip players, he tells Bell they make millions for the university for nothing in return and a multi-year contract for him, that they're owed these inducements. Bell storms off but the press-stud is in as he can see no other way. It's the vehicle for Bell's self-destruction.
Director William Friedkin's drawn to desperate characters with very few choices. His portrayal of college basketball bribery may be pessimistic, and Bell may be having an emergency of principles, but it's not especially gripping. His ex-wife Mary McDonnell asks him if he cheated. He denies it. Later, when she learns the facts, she sobbingly says she can't trust him anymore. A point-shaving rumor has hung over Bell for awhile. Walsh says it's true, go look at the tape. Bell does. His response is somewhat stupid, saying with surprise that he coached a rigged game. Bell wasn't a schemer but a dupe! He's acting like he perpetrated an offense against humankind. After his recently bought team's climactic game, Bell says words he never thought he'd say. It's paradoxical, but what does it matter? Friedkin tries to infuse some visual strength into the narrative when one of Bell's procured athletes tells the Coach he's homesick but if he goes, will his mother lose her new house that the "friends of the program" gave her? Bell pretends unawareness of any "arrangement." Friedkin begins the scene at Dutch angles, calling direct awareness to itself, the purpose vague. Is it showing Bell's world growing uncontrollable? We already got that when he sat alone in the gym staring longingly at the championship banners, imagined the cheering of past triumphs, sees no option but to cheat. Or when his wife asked him if he deceived and he denies. Bell approaches the gym before the final game, and we see him from another Dutch angle. They seem incompatible and bland here.
There are of course elements of Ron Shelton's script that Friedkin helms shrewdly. Bell's introductory locker talk and the first game, for instance. Later, Bell follows coaches who are also probing blue chip possibilities. One of them is Ricky from French Lick. They watch a main street parade highlighting the town pet, Larry Bird, and Ricky riding together in a convertible. The coaches beckon but then look shocked as Friedkin shows Bell, grinningly gesturing back at them from the driver's seat.
Another high point is the introduction of Shaq's character Neon in a Louisiana backwoods storehouse playing ruthless street basketball, a Goliath smashing the ball through the hoop over and over, his fierce expression defying the other players to face up to him. Bell's jaw gapes. One other highlight: Bell calls Walsh, Friedkin cuts from the miserable Bell to Walsh at the vast pool in back of his lavish home, drink in hand, his generous tummy laboring the strip of his red trunks, barking to "sell this spoiled brat on how happy he really is!" Friedkin returns to Bell, his throat parched as he turns to the homesick youngster. Nolte's words almost snag in his esophagus, "You better be at practice on Monday." Weak and trampled, Bell knows he's property now. It's painful. The gimmicky Dutches almost spoil it totally.
Ultimately, Friedkin's basketball footage brings about frenzied, dynamic action, from the players hurling across the court to coaches speedily drawing plays in clammy clusters. They're impressions, rapid and fuming. Staying at court level, Friedkin seizes the hostility of the sport in volatile surges. Though effective as moments, Friedkin hits the backboard, even bounces off the rim, but rarely goes through the net.
He could procure blue chip prospects, giving them cash, cars, etc. But in two respects he's unable to take advantage. Primarily, "if I break the rules I get kicked out of coaching." Next, "I might not get caught." It's Bell's ethical predicament. Blue Chips is not about the fight for victory but the fight to defeat. That's the appeal. Bell's passion for winning forces him to be disloyal to himself. Contempt comes in the figure of J.T. Walsh's gladly corrupt, obnoxious alum. When Bell refuses his first proposal of money to draft blue chip players, he tells Bell they make millions for the university for nothing in return and a multi-year contract for him, that they're owed these inducements. Bell storms off but the press-stud is in as he can see no other way. It's the vehicle for Bell's self-destruction.
Director William Friedkin's drawn to desperate characters with very few choices. His portrayal of college basketball bribery may be pessimistic, and Bell may be having an emergency of principles, but it's not especially gripping. His ex-wife Mary McDonnell asks him if he cheated. He denies it. Later, when she learns the facts, she sobbingly says she can't trust him anymore. A point-shaving rumor has hung over Bell for awhile. Walsh says it's true, go look at the tape. Bell does. His response is somewhat stupid, saying with surprise that he coached a rigged game. Bell wasn't a schemer but a dupe! He's acting like he perpetrated an offense against humankind. After his recently bought team's climactic game, Bell says words he never thought he'd say. It's paradoxical, but what does it matter? Friedkin tries to infuse some visual strength into the narrative when one of Bell's procured athletes tells the Coach he's homesick but if he goes, will his mother lose her new house that the "friends of the program" gave her? Bell pretends unawareness of any "arrangement." Friedkin begins the scene at Dutch angles, calling direct awareness to itself, the purpose vague. Is it showing Bell's world growing uncontrollable? We already got that when he sat alone in the gym staring longingly at the championship banners, imagined the cheering of past triumphs, sees no option but to cheat. Or when his wife asked him if he deceived and he denies. Bell approaches the gym before the final game, and we see him from another Dutch angle. They seem incompatible and bland here.
There are of course elements of Ron Shelton's script that Friedkin helms shrewdly. Bell's introductory locker talk and the first game, for instance. Later, Bell follows coaches who are also probing blue chip possibilities. One of them is Ricky from French Lick. They watch a main street parade highlighting the town pet, Larry Bird, and Ricky riding together in a convertible. The coaches beckon but then look shocked as Friedkin shows Bell, grinningly gesturing back at them from the driver's seat.
Another high point is the introduction of Shaq's character Neon in a Louisiana backwoods storehouse playing ruthless street basketball, a Goliath smashing the ball through the hoop over and over, his fierce expression defying the other players to face up to him. Bell's jaw gapes. One other highlight: Bell calls Walsh, Friedkin cuts from the miserable Bell to Walsh at the vast pool in back of his lavish home, drink in hand, his generous tummy laboring the strip of his red trunks, barking to "sell this spoiled brat on how happy he really is!" Friedkin returns to Bell, his throat parched as he turns to the homesick youngster. Nolte's words almost snag in his esophagus, "You better be at practice on Monday." Weak and trampled, Bell knows he's property now. It's painful. The gimmicky Dutches almost spoil it totally.
Ultimately, Friedkin's basketball footage brings about frenzied, dynamic action, from the players hurling across the court to coaches speedily drawing plays in clammy clusters. They're impressions, rapid and fuming. Staying at court level, Friedkin seizes the hostility of the sport in volatile surges. Though effective as moments, Friedkin hits the backboard, even bounces off the rim, but rarely goes through the net.