WILDCATS. Directed by Michael Ritchie; written by Ezra Sacks; produced by Anthea Sylbert for Warner Bros. Starring Goldie Hawn. Rated R (language).
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"You've come a long way, baby," describes Goldie Hawn's career in a nutshell. Anybody else remember her on TV's old "Laugh-In?"
Well, even after basic training in Private Benjamin and a season as an innercity high school football coach here in Wildcats, she's still as much fun and spunky as ever (although she's not quite as zany as in the old days).
Wildcats gives her an improbable—though not impossible—character to play, and it's plot is as predictable as the sunrise. But Hawn's charm and the talents of her co-stars make it entertaining anyway.
Daughter of a football coach, Molly (Hawn) has always wanted to follow in his footsteps. But the macho world of sports being what it is, she can't even get a J.V. coaching job.
Then super-chauvinist coach Darwell (Bruce McGill) comes up with the ultimate prank. He gets her a head coaching job. But it's at Central, located in the heart of the ghetto and the guardian of a proud tradition—of losing games.
Molly takes up the challenge and, of course, after some rough early going, she not only prevails, but succeeds beyond everyone's wildest dreams.
There is another plot at work in Wildcats, again with predictable characters and action made entertaining by good performances. Molly is divorced with custody of her two daughters. Ex-husband Frank (James Keach) is alarmed by what he perceives as the unwholesome influence of Molly's new students on his girls' homelife. So he tries to take over the custody. But not to worry. Both the football and domestic plots dovetail nicely into an all-around happy ending.
Wildcats is full of contrivances—like the super-star quarterback Molly talks into rejoining the team. Only one high school in 100 has someone that talented living within its boundaries. And improbabilities? After just one afternoon practice, which the first-stringers snub, the benchwarmers beat the daylights out of them in a scrimmage.
But the casting is so fine (from Hawn to Mykel T. Williamson as the quarterback to Nipsey Russell as the principal) and the pacing is so brisk, that these flaws aren't bothersome.
There are some fine touches as well, like the way Molly finally wins the team's respect—on their own macho terms, by running them into the ground on the track.
"How does Wildcats compare to The Best of Times? " is an inevitable question, given that both movies are about football, and came out so close together. Wildcats isn't as purely funny, but then Robin Williams is funnier than almost anyone else on the planet. Wildcats does have a few good laughs as well as many chuckles.
As far as ratings go, while The Best of Times barely deserved its PG-13 rating, Wildcats is rated R correctly. There's a lot of vulgar language in it, but it's all what one would expect from high school football players already graduated with honors in hard knocks. If the language had been more PG-13-ish, the whole situation of Wildcats would have been even more unbelievable. Aside from the language, it's great family fare.
Both movies are entertaining, and both make me feel quite nostalgic. I don't like football much these days. But I used to. Back before I got tired of the hype and the violence and the meat-market atmosphere of the whole thing. The Best of Times and Wildcats haven't made me into a fan again, but they remind me of how it feels to be one.
March 5, 1986