ANY GIVEN SUNDAY

Susan Granger’s review of “ANY GIVEN SUNDAY” (Warner Bros.)

It may be the classic story of the aging coach on a losing streak, the meddling owner, the injured veteran quarterback, and the rookie punk who’s itching to be a stadium star – but Oliver Stone adds a high-charged adrenaline rush and a few new twists. Al Pacino plays Tony D’Amato, longtime coach of the Miami Sharks; he’s sacrificed his wife and kids to his job and now he realizes he’s not relating to the younger guys on the team, particularly an amazing third-string quarterback, Jamie Foxx, who’s so nervous that he barfs on the field. “This game’s about more than winning,” D’Amato passionately insists, yet he’s antagonized by Cameron Diaz, as the team’s ruthless owner. Her father left her the franchise and she’s determined to prove she’s tough enough to run it. While sweet-talking the league commissioner (Charlton Heston), she even tries to blackmail Miami’s mayor (Clifton Davis) into building her a new stadium. Dennis Quaid’s the aging quarterback and LL Cool J’s a wide receiver with gridiron greats Lawrence Taylor as the top linebacker and Jim Brown as defensive coordinator. James Woods and Matthew Modine are the team’s battling team physicians. Once again, women in Oliver Stone’s movies turn out to be boozers (Ann-Margret), bimbos (Elizabeth Berkley), or bitches (Lauren Holly). This testosterone-laden football drama spews visual and auditory barrages. Sometimes the split-screen holds two, three, even four images, and there’s chaotic, rapid-fire cutting throughout. Rock and rap songs blare, almost masking the formulaic pigskin clichŽs, penned by Stone and John Logan. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Any Given Sunday is a stylish, hyperkinetic 8, a manic, visceral cacophony of sights and sounds – and as close as you’re ever gonna get to playing pro football.

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