Hampered by Prolonged Rollout, 'September 5' Presents Riveting Drama of Munich '72 Attack

Critics wrote heaps of praise for Tim Fehlbaum's film "September 5."

For this viewer -- a 1973-born "Munich Olympic Baby" who's been studying the city's 1972 massacre as a journalism undergrad and Games historian during 30 years since college -- the film proved excellent, on par with its predecessors "Munich" by Stephen Spielberg and Kevin Macdonald's outstanding documentary "One Day In September" (on their own merits all three works are "must see"). 

A major asset is Fehlbaum's new perspective on the terrorist attack portrayed through the ABC Sports control room operated adjacent to the scene of the crime: 31 Connollystrasse in the Olympic Village, an apartment built above the road and esplanade named for the first modern Olympic champion. 

Another strength: Whether the hostages' fate is already known, or moviegoers are naive to Jim McKay's unscripted punctuation on the Olympic Family's saddest day ("They're all gone"), all "September 5" viewers seemed captivated by the gripping drama in real life story that takes little time to build tension. 

Before sunrise on Day 11 of Heitere Spiele ("The Cheerful Games"), TV producer Geoffrey Mason (John Magaro) arrives to prepare for another long shift of sports coverage. After viewers learn the studio layout and a few of its players -- such as legend-in-the-making Roone Arledge (Peter Sarsgaard) and composite characters like a German-English-Hebrew interpreter Marianne Gebhardt (Leonie Benesch) -- a pin drop could be heard once gunfire emerges from the neighboring Olympic Village. What follows is a mostly accurate though condensed unfurling of Mason & Company navigating what became the world's first live broadcast of a terrorist attack. 

"September 5" succeeds in sticking to the true story, with minimal detours of creative license. It's forgivable, for instance, that in a lighter moment the control room tracks their disguised-as-Olympian colleague talking his way into the athlete village as seen from their Volkswagen Beetle-sized camera atop Munich's Olympic Tower (about a half mile away). 

More preposterous but laughable: guns drawn Munich polizei storming the broadcast center, prompting Arledge to exclaim "Get the fuck out of my studio!" 

The only other noticeable fiction involved the screenwriter paraphrasing IOC President Avery Brundage with his statement "the Games must go on" a day early (in real life, this quote was delivered the next day at the Munich Olympic Stadium memorial service for the lost Team Israel members). 

Viewers will appreciate the authentic Munich posters, accreditation mockups, team uniforms and other tuned-to-detail touches thanks to the methodical work of costume and set designers who also used actual equipment of 1972 -- from rotary phones and Rolodexes to vintage TV studio monitors and cameras -- to painstakingly create the broadcast set and Arledge's temporary offices. 

The soundtrack gives a nod to previous Munich-centric films with Apollo 100's "Jesu Joy" setting the early-70's tone just like in Macdonald's documentary. There's lots to love about German composer Lorenz Dangel's techno-centered score, with the strings of "Helicopters" played as Howard Cosell defines "shalom" for nearly a billion TV viewers, each note foreshadowing Team Israel's fate at Furstenfeldbruck. 

Another favorite line quipped in response to Mason's team instructions: "You got it, Kubrick!" 

The best unexpected surprise of "September 5" is that, unlike Spielberg and Macdonald, Fehlbaum does not cut off McKay after famously uttering "they're all gone." For the first time in over 30 years of studying this global event, we learn what else McKay had to say after "our greatest hopes and our worst fears are seldom realized."

"They're all gone. It's all over. The Israeli Olympic Team is destroyed, much of it. But what will happen to the Games of the XXth Olympiad? None of us know what will happen ... to the course of world history."

For all the film's strengths, Paramount's promotion and release plan proved to be a disappointing head-scratcher. 

After securing distribution last fall and setting limited release in New York and LA during November, according to industry reports, the studio pushed back wider release to December then January, then again when the locked-in mid-January date finally arrived. 

Frustrated by a lack of answers from Paramount's unresponsive national media relations team and vague responses from more local reps when asked "where is this film actually screening?" (as it was nowhere near Atlanta), I reached out to two New York Times reporters who replied with related insights.

Lead critic Manohla Dargis, who scribed The Times' Critics Pick praise of the film, stated distribution wasn't her bag while offering the Oscar factor was likely in play.

"Once the nominations are announced [viewers] should have some clarity on the release," she said. "I hope that you can see it in a theater."

Fortunately, by that time, I had seen it at a special preview screening, but friends in places low and high were still asking "where is September 5?"

Dargis' West coast colleague Brooks Barnes, for which film distribution is his bag/beat, seconded the Oscar timing theory while adding that some recent flubs and failures of other Paramount releases, combined with an array of recent or upcoming corporate changes, may have been in play, or they just didn't know what to do with the topics the film presents. At least my misery was in good company for lack of response from Paramount PR.

"I sent a query, and if I get an answer, I'll let you know," wrote Barnes. 

Not surprisingly, that was the end of that. 

Even with an Academy Award nomination for best original screenplay, within a week of its very limited nationwide release, Paramount perplexingly pulled the critically acclaimed film out of the few U.S. theaters that had it, later rushing it to streaming by early February. 

Paramount's team apparently was so unsure what to do with "September 5" they didn't even add it to their own Paramount + service. 

My grade of their distribution plan: D minus. 

And the question emerges: To what extent was this wutend oder enttauscht for Fehlbaum?

"September 5" is worth the search and price to view it where it is available -- as of this mid-February post, Apple TV, Fandango at Home, Plex, Prime Video and Row8 have the film streaming in the $9.99 to $19.99 range. Watch it. 

And if you're lucky enough to find it on the big screen, take it from Dargis' advice and get thee to the cinema. 

Images via Paramount's "September 5" press materials

Shallow Writing Sinks "The Boys In The Boat"

Following a recent press screening for "The Boys In The Boat," the host asked my thoughts of the five-ring-related film. 

With thanks to Allied Global Marketing for the pre-Christmas media ticket, my response to their rep was that I really wanted to love this movie -- based on a great book by Daniel James Brown -- but didn't as there were too many issues, starting with writing as shallow as the eight-man sculls on screen.

In the weeks since the Dec. 18 screening in Atlanta, an online search yielded that at least one film critic deemed the George Clooney 2023 picture comparable to the 1981 Oscar-winning best picture directed by Hugh Hudson with a screenplay by Colin Welland (who also earned an Academy Award, among four wins from seven nominations for the outstanding earlier film).  

"'The Boys In The Boat' is like 'Chariots of Fire' on the water," wrote James Verniere of the Boston Herald.  

With all due respect to Mr. Verniere, it's not. 

Not even close. 

Looking for the good, the costume team led by veteran designer Jenny Eagan nailed it. 

It's impressive on the big screen that "The Boys in the Boat" Olympic attire -- from Team USA's uniforms to the athlete and official Berlin Olympic pins -- all pops with authenticity, right down to the colored ribbons that served as the era's Olympian accreditation. 

In a publicity video, Eagan describes some of her team's creative process:

While drafting this post, I sent a LinkedIn message to Eagan requesting an interview as her press clip above did not answer my key questions on her team's research of the Berlin uniforms, pins and other 1936 attire (when she responds, a follow up post or update in this one may follow).

Paraphrasing the night-of-screening remarks by my guest for the viewing event, the film's production design team also deserves a shout-out for what seemed to be a mostly accurate depiction of the 1936 Games on the waters of Berlin's Langer See, the river-filled lake which served as the rowing venue. From the credits, it's my understanding a Canadian reservoir was the crew's home and set for many takes. 

But back to the issues that sunk the film for this blogger. 

As noted, strike one was the writing as I found Mark L. Smith's screenplay flat, predictable and, more than once, annoying for its missed opportunities. 

Too many times I felt like turning to my seatmates and stating, "and now [insert character name] is going to state [fill in the blank with aptly anticipated often monosyllabic retort]." Did the head coach reject his wife's late-night flirtations because he was tired or because they were written so silly? Tough call. But worse, who cared? As evidenced with a mid-film popcorn and pee break, I stopped paying attention an hour earlier! 

In another example, viewers meet the wise old longboat craftsman who spouts wisdom and the lore of rowing from a lifetime of experience, but the writing is so dumbed down, my thoughts drifted to fresh lyrics for the popular nursery rhyme, "Row, row, row your boat, gently on the screen, wearily, wearily, wearily, wearily, weaker than a meme!"

The second strike was shallow character development. While Brown sank the oars deep into history and his Olympian (and coaching) characters on the pages of his book, Smith's screenplay only skimmed the surface floating too many stories with no depth while failing to tie up numerous loose ends by the final scenes. 

The audience meets, for instance, the main protagonist and his love interest, who clearly supports his athletic interests across two continents and an ocean. But by the time the closing credits roll, the audience exits wondering what happened to her once a flashback device lifted directly from "Saving Private Ryan" returns viewers from Berlin '36 to modern times. Did the main character marry her? Who knows? Who cares? Not Smith, and the screenplay instead called for rolling the credits. 

Squandering Joel Edgerton's talent -- on the heels of his memorable lead role in "Master Gardener" -- also left me scratching and shaking my head. The scenes of the coach he portrayed, and his wife, were just weird, or too PG, and their relationship status proved another unresolved cliffhanger by the film's conclusion. Worse still, he's never given the words nor actions to equal coach Sam Mussabini as portrayed by Sir Ian Holm. 

Strike three: Non sequitur micro-dramas also abound, such as the awkward introduction of a dining car social class showdown aboard the New England-bound train to the Olympic trials, or a square-pegged moment with Jesse Owens that omits mention of Team USA's other Black athletes in Berlin. Then, after this nod to history, the screenplay has the audacity to suggest the Führer himself became more exasperated by Team USA rowers than Owens' track and field feats. Nein.

Auch Nein for portraying the international rowing judge in Nazi attire. But thanks to Eagan's team, at least the uniform looked right. 

Mega NEIN the protagonist's love interest could find a radio broadcast of Olympic rowing ... live ... from Berlin ... with a nine-hour time difference that assumes the race on a lake half-way across the globe had an afternoon start time. Even if you were in love, as a 1936 Seattle resident, would you be awake before dawn rapturously tuned-in to rowing commentary live from Germany? Would you be tuned in from the East Coast, or anywhere? 

The most nervig, er, annoying scene of all arrived when a key character finds himself kicked off the team only to have his Olympian status restored thanks to poor man's version of Richard Gere's "I got nowhere else to go!" speech to Louis Gossett Jr. in "An Officer and a Gentleman." Sadly, the rowing version is not at all quotable. 

Also missing from "The Boys in the Boat" is a memorable soundtrack. For all of Alexandre Desplat's strengths and skills as a composer, it was disappointing that even the film's score seemed to be trying too hard. The only time it worked was in support of the final race. No Vangelis here. 

For a comparison, you can hear the Greek composer's Oscar-winning score just by its mention here, yes? No one's gonna by humming nor jogging, nor rowing, to "The Boys in the Boat" soundtrack. 

I'm not pulling solo, single skull-style with some of my perspectives, according to the AP's review by Jocelyn Noveck. Though she's a bit kinder and more professional in her remarks, her notes on the screenplay are apt. Silver Screen Capture's writer also catches my drift. 

To his credit, Clooney mentioned one point of the film was to bring people together to cheer a common cause. He must be onto something because, curiously, there were a lot of cheers when Team USA won gold in the Dec. 18 screening auditorium. A crowd pleaser? Perhaps. (Our screening was packed with high school and college rowers.)

Only time will tell whether ticket sales leave MGM cheering as well (as of this Jan. 11 post, the film is still $4.9 million shy of recouping its $40 million budget). According to online sources, "Chariots of Fire" banked $59 million atop a $5.5 million budget. 

Someday when I'm afforded an opportunity to speak with Herr Director George, just like Sister Nancy Usselman (see photo), my first question will be the extent to which the final Olympic race and its clunky camera angles took inspiration from SCTV 3-D Theatre. In the early 1980s, was Clooney tuned in to John Candy, too (at the :45 and 1:20 marks in this clip)?

The bottom line is that too often it felt "The Boys in the Boat" tried too hard (und scheiterte) to accomplish too much, and audiences can do themselves a favor by instead watching "Chariots of Fire" for inspiration.

Image credits: Penguin Random House book cover, Calum Turner image via the X account @CTurnerUpdates on which no photo credit was shared, stills by Laurie Sparham/MGM, Clooney red carpet premiere photo via the Pauline Center for Media Studies blog on which no photo credit was given to Sister Usselman's camera operator. 

Review: Golden Moments Abound In "I, TONYA"

There's a captivating moment of stillness in "I, Tonya" -- the highly anticipated figure skating drama disguised as comedy -- which may just earn the film's leading star some golden awards.

Donning a homemade uniform in a Norwegian ice arena dressing room, Margot Robbie stares into the camera, as through a two-way mirror, to apply a thick coat of dark rouge to her cheeks while her character -- disgraced Olympian Tonya Harding -- prepares to skate in her last winter Games.

As she attempts to fake a "psych-yourself-up-for-the-ice" smile, her emotions -- at last cracked by the pressures of the world's stage, its judgments upon her shoulders, and a lifetime of physical and verbal abuse -- bring forth a single, slow motion tear.

And when the film finally achieves national release next month -- on the 24th anniversary of the events around which Harding's bio are centered (Jan. 6) -- I believe audiences coast-to-coast will cry, too, empathizing with her.

With thanks to the publicists for distributor Neon who sent this Olympic blogger a link to a media screener, on Monday evening I watched "I, Tonya" in my apartment. What a treat!

Much like other recently-experienced award-contender films "Lady Bird," "Blade Runner 2049" and "Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri," the skating movie made me want to watch it again right away.

"I, Tonya" is so good.

A theory is that director Craig Gillespie laced "I, Tonya" with subtle homages to a handful of great scenes of '80's and '90's cinema from the years during which Harding's real-life drama took shape.

The tearful solitude during Robbie's makeup application (described above) reminded me of Glenn Close's powerful mascara-removing closing shot, weeping while accepting her fate as the shamed widow at the center of "Dangerous Liaisons."

About mid-film in "I, Tonya," during a scene portraying how competition judges too-often downgraded Harding's hardscrabble performances with low marks, a livid and unapologetically crass Tonya tells a row of officials to "suck my dick!" just like Demi Moore to her master chief while soldiering on as "G.I. Jane."

And a youthful Harding endures paternal abandonment through a tearful and gut-wrenching car-side goodbye to her daddy, just like little Bernice in "Hope Floats."

But first, "I, Tonya" begins with matter-of-fact introductions of Harding, her mother LaVona Golden (expertly crafted by Allison Janney -- more about her later), Harding's dastardly ex-husband Jeff Gillooly (Sebastian Stan), his one-time friend and oafish self-proclaimed bodyguard/espionage expert Shawn Eckhardt (Paul Walter Hauser), and a slippery "Hard Copy" producer (Bobby Cannavale) who covered the attack on fellow skater Nancy Kerrigan and its aftermath, which Harding later tags as "The Incident" and only reason everyone is watching.

Through documentary-style living room or kitchen storytelling confessionals, members of Harding's five-ring circus each present their version of events. Not surprising, their stories rarely jive.

Janney as LaVona = scary. Here's a woman so grizzled she smoked on the ice while enrolling the four-year-old Tonya in youth skating lessons before kicking her daughter out of her chair while admonishing her crying child to "Answer me when I talk to you!"

"You think Sonja Henie's mother mother loved her?" asks LaVona of her daughter. "Poor fucking you!"

Yikes!

Sidebar: The young actress who skates as a pre-teen Harding (Mckenna Grace) gives a confident child star performance reminiscent of a Hannah Pilkes as Robin in "The Woodsman."

Introducing her exotic bird, who roosts on LaVona's shoulder and pecks at her ear, Janney describes the aviary companion named "Little Man" and her "sixth husband" who is the "best one."

Cute, until she tells a teenage Harding's coach to "lick my ass -- she can do a f-ing triple" as in triple axel, which became Tonya's signature move to win the 1991 U.S. Figure Skating Championships.

Before achieving this pinnacle moment on ice, viewers learn of Harding's awkward introduction to Gillooly (LaVona chaperoned their first date) and the physical abuse that escalated until their 1993 divorce.

LaVona's mother-daughter coaching dynamic, which skews to bullying as motivator, peaks with maternal bribes to fans to psych-out (or toughen?) Tonya before key competitions.

Harding and Kerrigan were friends and roomies during these years, audiences learn. And we learn about Tonya placing out of the medals at the 1992 Albertville Winter Games.

"When you come in fourth at the Olympics, you don't get endorsement deals," said a dejected skater-turned-waitress Harding.

With scant employment prospects and motivated by a 1993 visit from her first fired-in-a-tirade coach (Julianne Nicholson), Tonya decides to return to the ice for another Games in just a year (in real life, the 1992 and 1994 Winter Olympic cycle was determined by the IOC much earlier, with creative license slightly tweaking the timeline to "just today" for "Games in Norway next year").

More choices tip some dominoes, and it's not long before Kerrigan's famous screams of "Why?" echo through a Detroit ice rink.

Fun facts from Tonya's training -- like jogging with a 50 pound bag of Purina Dog Chow a la Sly Stallone carrying trees across his Siberian training in "Rocky IV" -- keep things light along the ride.

I'm not gonna try to describe "The Incident" because all its complexities are either mostly known to those who witnessed them in 1994 or may remain as curiously riveting to new audiences in 2018.

Let's state instead that tabloid journalism cut its pre-O.J. Simpson coverage teeth with the Harding/Kerrigan story, and "I, Tonya" delivers in its unspooling then reconstruction of "what happened."

This is where Hauser as Eckhardt nearly steals the show as a man so incompetent on so many fronts.

It's like watching Larry, Curley and Moe all wrapped up with both characters of "Dumb and Dumber" and a dash, er, 300+ pounds of Richard Jewell ... for the win!

Sheesh, so cringe worthy and funny! And scary, "Oh, my!"

At the risk of disclosing minor spoilers, one of the best scenes that unfolds just after "The Incident" shows Eckhardt instructing Gillooly -- in his best "Deep Throat" or James Bond 007 whisper -- to "meet me at Golden Buddha, at our regular table, at the stroke of midnight."

Which brings me to a cameo by one of my favorite Chinese restaurants in suburban Atlanta.

Yes, The Golden Buddha restaurant on Clairmont Road in Decatur, Ga., is "the place" where Gillooly and Eckhardt share their clandestine conversation that unraveled the Harding/Kerrigan incident as the FBI listened from a parked van outside.

Just after watching "I, Tonya" it was fun to enjoy a late-night meal at "The Buddha" and learn from the owner and manager how a location scout approached them in early 2016 to rent the restaurant for a day.

"They liked our original, authentic look," said proprietor Ben Lee in a brief interview near Table 47 (shown) where Eckhardt attempts to incriminate Gillooly, already guilty by association and by many other measures.

Diners get Gillooly'd at blue Table 47

"We opened in 1977 and they filmed in fall 2016," added Lee. "At first we were reluctant to close for a day because of our customers, but we are glad we got involved [with "I, Tonya"].

According to the film's press kit, filming across Atlanta spanned 30 days. But none of other scenes in "I, Tonya" reveal specific Atlanta destinations.

My guess is the Arena at Gwinnett Center served as the Olympic and U.S. Championships skating venues. Shooting also took place in New York (including venues in Lake Placid?) for key rink scenes. (I later read this article citing venues in Macon, Ga.).

Speaking of the skating surfaces, the set decoration and CGI used in "I, Tonya" does present an authentic look of the Games used in Albertville '92 and Lillehammer '94 including the Olympic rings and logos or graphics used by the official broadcasters of both events.

Archival footage including Connie Chung, Ann Curry, David Letterman and other real TV personalities adds to the authenticity.

I wonder what groans and other reactions may occur as Matt Lauer circa 1994 appears on the big screen. Brought me a wince and chuckle.

The music helps, too. An original score by Peter Naschel and more than 30 crowd pleasing classic rock, pop and techno songs accompany the action of "I, Tonya."

I was jamming mostly with "Every 1's A Winner" (Hot Chocolate) or "Little Girl Bad" (Joanie Sommers) and favorites by ZZ Top, Foreigner, Violent Femmes, Heart, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and Supertramp.

Doubtful but fun to entertain the notion that Harding skated in Albertville to La Tour's "People Are Still Having Sex."

Great editing, leverage and crescendo of "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac.

There's also a hilarious albeit "serious" reference to Richard Marx!

While pondering this film since viewing its trailer earlier this year, I wondered and started asking some figure skating veterans their take.

And today I reached out to the media relations team for U.S. Figure Skating to ask their stance on "I, Tonya" (also to attempt contact with Harding or Kerrigan -- will trying to contact them put me on thin ice?). Will write up responses as they are presented.

Robbie as Harding speaks throughout the film about truth and personal experience.

The truth is, "I, Tonya" is gonna be a huge hit for its excellent blend of storytelling, acting, drama with laughs, and its Olympic flair.

Sadly, it also reminds viewers that for Harding (and everyone) -- like my Golden Buddha fortune of Monday night -- "life ... is a reality to be experienced."

Photos by Neon, Newsweek and Nicholas Wolaver

Olympic Gymnasts Spoofed By 'The Bronze'

The first time I heard about "The Bronze" -- the new comedy that spoofs Olympic gymnastics -- it had just debuted at the 2015 Sundance Film Festival.

Following some studio troubles and distribution issues, it took longer than anticipated to finally see it, but I recently enjoyed a media preview screening just in time for its limited release (pushed back yet again) on Friday. 

It's too bad this five-ringed flick may not get a broader audience; the film is packed with many funny moments, some very funny. 

But over time, "The Bronze" may gain a cult following on par with other sports-skewering late night comedies like bowling's "Kingpin" or golf's "Caddyshack." 

Early scenes introduce viewers to the young Hope Annabelle Greggory, an Olympian from small town Ohio competing at the Rome 2004 Olympics. In case you weren't sure: Unlike other recent releases "Race" and "Eddie The Eagle," "The Bronze" is not based on a specific Olympian, nor are its Olympic scenes based on real-life. 

After Hope's ankle audibly snaps during her televised balance beam routine, the would-be Kerri Strug guts through one more routine to secure a bronze medal and win America's sweetheart status, in the process upstaging fellow U.S. gymnasts who took home the gold.

Flash forward 10 years: Adult Greggory (Melissa Rauch), now pushing 30, has long-since gotten sponsorship offers or appearance fees. Donning her Team USA uniform, she fills her days with trips to the mall in search of free food, shoes and other Olympic hero spoils she negotiated through questionable means (some X-rated).

When she's not cruising the mall or small town Ohio streets in her bronze and rusting Buick, Hope spends time stealing greeting card cash from her postal dad's mail truck and hiding out in her trophy-filled basement room, at times masturbating to stuck landings in her own competition videos.

Getting the picture? America's sweetheart ... gone wild!

Viewers may recognize Hope's father Stan (Gary Cole) from his previous authoritarian role in "Office Space" (yeah, that manager with the TPS reports and great coffee mug).

Though Stan loves Hope, he's reached the end of his rope in trying to nudge her out of the nest. Then opportunity knocks!

Through a series of unfortunate events centered on her former coach's suicide and an unexpected inheritance secretly promised to her, Hope reluctantly accepts a coaching gig to train America's next sweetheart gymnast -- high schooler Maggie Townsend, Hope's heir apparent -- in time for the Toronto 2016 Games.

Though gaining a small fortune is Hope's only real motivation, for her own dark amusement she unleashes a spectrum of awful pranks undermining her naive protege's training through bad diet, condoning premarital sex and bottled water spiked with ecstasy, all while fending off an encroaching U.S. Gymnastics coaching nemesis dead-set on luring Maggie over to his camp.

Refraining from more screenplay details, I'll just state that by the time an intense gymnastics sex scene and the Toronto Games are underway, sportsmanlike conduct is long gone and Hope's back story on her vault from sweetheart to seductress is fully disclosed, with many hilarious if raunchy, er, Rauch-y one-liners delivered. There are a few times when this joke or that joke are just slightly overcooked, but overall most lines aren't forced.

I really took a shine to the dancer-turned-actress Haley Lu Richardson as Maggie, an ever-chipper yet gullible athlete looking to Hope for advice.

Between Maggie's Christian one-liners ("cursing hurts God's spirit") and cluelessly suggestive secret hand signals (finger poking her other hand's encircled fingers) she earned some of the biggest laughs.

My prediction is that others will one day recall this Richardson comedy debut the way folks already reminisce about Jonah Hill in "Superbad."

Thomas Middleditch as the awkward gym owner (and lifetime small town Hope fan) provides a dose of sensitivity that also will make folks smile.

It was fun spotting Olympic cameos by Dominique Dawes, Olga Korbut and Dominique Moceanu, and most of the music is apt. Fans may enjoy Doris Day crooning "Why-o-why-o did I leave Ohio?" and the end credits rolling to a Rauch gymnastics rap ("I'm a bronze ass beeochh!") are nice finishing touches.

"The Bronze" leaves no doubt its "R" rating is appropriate, so some Rio 2016 Olympic hopefuls may have to wait for theatre access. I suspect the DVD will put the "nasty" into artistic gymnastics while leaving room for rhythmic or trampoline sequels.

Images via Sony Classics

Olympic Film 'Eddie The Eagle' Minces Facts But Sticks The Landing With Ski Jumping Laughs

If there's a new drinking game created for every fictional detail in the new Olympic film "Eddie The Eagle," audiences may be passed out under their seats by the time the first ski jump appears.

But if five-ringed fact checkers (and anyone with common sense) are willing to leave the nonfiction elements of Olympian Michael "The Eagle" Edwards' real story at home, viewers may find a lot to enjoy during this feelgood spectacle.

Edwards, of course, was a Team GB athlete who competed in ski jumping at the Calgary 1988 Winter Olympic Games the same year Finland's ski jumping phenom Matti Nykänen defended his gold and silver medal jumps of Sarajevo.

Similar to the debut of the Jamaican Bobsled team, Edwards' jumping feats played more like comic relief for sports reporters and fans who tensely awaited that Olympiad's on-ice "Battle of the Brians" (Boitano/USA v. Orser/Canada) and the "Battle of the Carmens" (Witt/East Germany and Thomas/USA).

I won't attempt to write the "real" version of events from Edwards' trip to Calgary -- which, fictionalized, form the satisfying, warm and fuzzy conclusion of the new film -- but the following truthless elements (and spoilers) are what "Eddie The Eagle" screenwriters want audiences to believe (my snarky retorts appear in italics):

• Near-penniless Edwards (Taron Egerton, perfectly cast) drove himself from the U.K. to Germany after discovering a washed-out Team USA ski jump champion reluctantly willing to train him (anyone who checks a map of Europe or an Olympic history book should find both ridiculous, even if a ferry was crossing the English Channel in 1987)

• The "former Olympic-level ski jumping champion" was kicked off the 1970's Olympic teams for bad behavior, prompting ski jumping's version of "Coach K" to write a best-selling "how to coach ski jumping" book about it! (The only U.S. medal in ski jumping ever is a single bronze earned in 1924, which might provide insight as to why Americans don't celebrate ski jumping's answer to Herb Brooks every four years)

• The washed-out former champ (Hugh Jackman, slightly trying too hard) -- who maintains a super hero physique while drinking whisky for breakfast and chain smoking -- works as a coatless mechanic and snow groomer in Garmisch, Germany, and the 1936 Winter Olympic site dropped the difficult-to-spell-and-pronounce second half of the city's full name, Garmisch-Partenkirchen (I suspect these were deliberate choices of the European filmmakers to poke fun at American anti-smoking warning labels and insult Western Hemisphere reading skills as 'Partenkirchen' may be too many syllables for tiny U.S. minds to process; they also needed an actor with abs to juxtapose with Edwards' British pudginess)

• In his spare time (and the nine unemployed months without snow), the same former champ works on an expensive old (and gold) Pontiac Firebird Trans Am in his garage apartment ... in the German Alps ... and he drinks heavily before soaring off the 90 meter ski ramp sans helmet/coat for a flawless landing! (I chuckled as this heavy-CGI scene includes the jumper flicking his smoke like 'The Fonz' during a windy descent -- in some ways this scene was the film's "jumping the shark" moment).

I honestly don't know what path the real Edwards officially took to qualify for Calgary, but I doubt the real-life British Olympic Association leadership, or their sportsmanlike Olympian team members, dished out as much baloney for Edwards to clear like hurdles on a track.

It was laughable that working media and the Team GB publicist donned no Olympic credentials, and both seemed to enjoy unfettered access to Edwards in the Olympic Village and ski jumping field of play.

In spite of these glaring flaws, I laughed out loud and found myself smiling through much of "Eddie The Eagle." It was easy to cheer for underdog Edwards in 1988, and even easier with doses of humour akin to favourite scripts appearing on the BBC.

Scenes featuring a young Eddie studying Olympic history books brought back childhood memories, as did mother:son moments of encouragement featuring a keepsake biscuit tin.

It was also fun to see actual ABC and I.O.C. footage from the '88 Opening and Closing Ceremonies, and a true Edwards cameo during the organizing committee's closing remarks.

Another plus for "Eddie The Eagle" is its excellent score, which I understand was composed by Matthew Margeson -- the music really makes the movie at many critical moments, and a few perfectly-timed bars of a specific Van Halen hit had the audiences loudly cheering in the theatre and on screen (turns out most of the soundtrack is original music created to accompany the film). Holly Johnson's "Ascension" (Fly) is good as well.

Comparing notes with several Olympic-minded friends, it was unanimous "Eddie The Eagle" is a crowd pleasing film, and probably its strongest asset is the seamless special effects, POV shots and Go-Pro camera angles that seem to take the audience off of several of Europe's top jumping centers (the film crew did not visit Canada, but they did turn a modern European jump site into a fully-dressed Calgary Olympic venue).

Perhaps only the famous "Thrill of victory and the agony of defeat" video gives a more breathtaking look at ski jumping, and it surprised me this "Wide World of Sports" intro did not make the cut (then again, "Eddie The Eagle" was -- perhaps deliberately -- not a Disney/ABC production).

Olympic pin collectors may find themselves pining for one of the Team GB costume pins (a fictional design almost two inches in diameter). And Christopher Walken fans may find themselves wishing to read his coaching manual after a locker room reunion with his bad boy protege.

British character actor Jim Broadbent also logs a fun cameo as sportscaster, a turn from his appearances in "Iris," "Moulin Rouge!" and the Harry Potter franchise.

I scratched my head at the PG-13 rating for "Eddie The Eagle" as there is zero profanity and less smoking or 4:20 references than viewers may recall from "Cool Runnings."

The only available photo online 

featuring Bo Derek and skis. 

Credit unavailable via Pinterest

Granted, John Candy was more of a teddy bear coach in the 1993 film, and friends reminded me of Jackman's unconventional coaching scene during which Edwards is instructed to fantasize about Bo Derek.

This part of the script earned a three not a "10" in my book, but somehow that must add up to PG-13. Maybe some unsportsmanlike conduct, or a scene involving Norway's jumpers in a sauna, also gave the MPAA cause for pause.

No matter the rating, if you want to enjoy a few winter Olympic laughs, take the plunge and go see "Eddie The Eagle." Even the trailer (below) may make you jump for joy.

Images via Lionsgate and 20th Century Fox