We Are Marshall is an enigma to me. It has all the potential to be a great movie. It has a great cast including Matthew McConaughey, Matthew Fox, Ian McShane, and David Strathairn to name a few—all of whom put together first rate performances. Matthew Fox as Coach Red Dawson is particularly amazing in his depth of emotion. I was enthralled by Matthew McConaughey’s portrayal of coach Lengyel. I have absolutely nothing but praise for the entire cast.

We Are Marshall tells the true story of the Marshall University football team that was rebuilt after the tragic death of most of the team—and several hometown fans and coaches—due to a plane crash on the way back home from an away game. Tragic, tragic story. Excellent commentary of the impact this incident had on an entire small college town. Again, I cannot describe how accomplished the acting is.

However, despite its great storytelling potential and awesome star power, this film just does not move me, instead coming off as overdone. It may be the huge swells of emotional music. It could be the smarmy monologue that introduces the story.

But my personal pet peeve is any story that starts out with the words, “This is a True Story”. I have become so jaded by those words because of the obvious need to invent characters to flesh out the truth. The incident may be factual—there actually was a plane crash that killed the football team—but the reactions of the folks at home, and their life after the incident, are forced to be conjecture. No matter that this film tries its best to bring closure and healing—its conclusions about moving on and healing the grief are too simplistic and escapist.

For example: city father Paul Griffen (who lost a son in the crash) encourages Annie Cantrell (who would have been his daughter-in-law) to go ahead and go to California like she and her fiancé had planned prior to the crash. Judging by the smugly satisfied look on Annie’s face and the truly inspiring background music as she leaves town in her Volkswagen beetle (puh-leez) toward the end of the film, you get the impression that this is gonna make things better. But it’s a cheat. What is she going to do? Miss her boyfriend all that much more since she will be fulfilling their plan alone?

The only believable resolution to the suffering comes from coaches Lengyel and Dawson. Lengyel wants to be a catalyst for healing by doing what he loves, so he applies for the open coaching job. Red Dawson agrees to help as an assistant, but never really recovers and gives up coaching. “Losing is not an honor to the dead,” he mourns.

Why is the rest of the movie such a flat-liner? I believe it comes from the writing itself. I have read some blogs and bulletin board entries from people who attended Marshall at the time of the actual incident. The experience was tragic, long-lasting, and life-changing for them. And the profoundness of the loss of friends, classmates, parents, coaches, and boosters simply are not captured in screenwriter Jamie Linden’s script. No matter how hard director McG tries, it cannot be recreated, nor can it be substituted with other meaning.

We Are Marshall tries to use football as medicine. Rebuilding the Marshall football team becomes the distraction to prevent the town from dealing with the loss. While it’s probably good therapy to stay busy or to move on with life after a tragedy like this one, I found this particular gridiron prescription underwhelming and unsatisfying. The entire town is devastated, and rebuilding the football team simply doesn’t heal them all.

These people don’t need a huddle; they need a hug. Too bad I couldn’t embrace this film. I wanted to.

This film is rated PG. I agree—though a deeper appreciation of the real pain might have earned both a PG-13 rating and a legitimate emotional response from the audience. I wanted to hurt with these people, but didn’t get to. Too much football. Too little emotional depth. The real story here is off the field, not on it.

Courtesy of a local publicist, Mike attended a promotional screening of We Are Marshall.