VICTORY
(1981)
Starring
Sylvester Stallone, Michael Caine, Max von Sydow, Pelé.
Directed by John Huston. (116 min)
ON
BLU-RAY FROM
Review
by Tiger the Terrible😺
I
met Pelé once. Actually,
encountered might be more accurate.
Back
in the mid-seventies, my hometown got its own team, the Portland
Timbers, in the fledgling North American Soccer League (NASL), which
inspired suburban parents to drag their kids kicking &
screaming onto the pitch to play in youth leagues. One of those was
yours truly. Though I eventually grew to love the game, soccer was as
alien to me as the opposite sex and I approached it with similar
awkwardness. Worse yet, I was put on a team with guys who’d already
been playing together for a few years.
Anyway,
the Timbers regularly recruited ball boys by drawing the names of
local players. A ball boy’s job was to stand on the
sidelines and retrieve balls that went out-of-bounds during play.
Being selected was a big deal; not only did it mean you got to attend
a game or two for free, but you might meet some of the players. My
name was drawn for a game against the New York Cosmos, followed by
awe-struck gasps from my teammates.
“That’s
Pelé’s
team!” I heard some of them say. “You’re gonna see Pelé!”
Pelé?
Who the hell is Pelé?
I refrained from actually
asking that question, since I could already tell a few guys were resentful that this pasty-legged benchwarmer would
be closer to their idol than they’d
ever get. And
in case anyone reading is currently asking the same question, Pelé
is soccer’s Michael Jordan
and widely considered the greatest player of all time. He played
most of his career in Brazil, but eventually followed the money to
America, signing
with the New York Cosmos. He was past his prime by then, but his
marquee value still planted
butts in seats. Present
company excepted, everybody
knew who Pelé was.
Pelé’s love scene. |
So
there I was one summer evening
in Civic Stadium, standing on
the sidelines when a ball suddenly whizzed by. Startled into action,
I bolted off to retrieve it. Grabbing the ball, I turned to see the
living legend, sweaty and panting, eyes huge as he shot out his hands
and roared “Ball! Ball!
Ball! Ball! Ball!”, his
urgency reminding me the clock doesn’t stop in soccer. In a panic,
I threw the ball over his head. While it didn’t cost New York the
game or anything, Pelé was
clearly unimpressed with
my aim.
So
went that
personal brush
with greatness.
Pelé
retired a few years later (as
did I), but was still enough of a brand name to be third-billed
behind Sylvester
Stallone and Michael
Caine in Victory.
He isn’t in the film nearly as much as the billing suggests, but
his formidable skills are on full display and certainly cinema
worthy, as are those of other
international soccer stars in
supporting roles.
With
a plot and charming, old-fashioned tone similar to
The Great Escape,
Victory
is
one of Stallone’s better
post-Rocky
films, arguably because it’s directed by John Huston, who surrounds
him with a great cast that includes Caine and Max von Sydow. Stallone
is no Steve McQueen, but he’s
enjoyable
enough
as Captain Hatch, an American POW who joins John Colby’s (Caine)
prison soccer team after not-so-nasty Nazi Karl
von Steiner (von Sydow) arranges a match against an elite German
team. The game may be pure
propaganda to
the Nazis, but Hatch and his
superiors see
a perfect escape opportunity.
"You take Sly. I had him on my team last time." |
Much
of the film has Colby putting together the team while Hatch works on
escape plans, which includes borrowing numerous
tropes
from The Great Escape, such
as Hatch
breaking-out
to see how the land lays in Paris (where the game will be played),
then
allowing himself to be recaptured so
he can report back. And that’s
okay...if you’re gonna rip-off a prison escape movie,
you might as well rip-off
the Gone with the Wind
of prison escape movies.
If
Victory
frequently riffs
The Great Escape up
to this point,
the match itself unfolds like
The Longest Yard
(minus the laughs). Here’s where Pelé
shines. He
can’t act worth a shit, but
give him a ball and he’s a goddamn magician...no camera trickery,
special effects or stuntmen required. His solo, goal-scoring drive
across the field is one of the film’s action
highlights. But
his heroics aren’t the game decider...not with Stallone and his ego
in the cast.
In Hollywood, Victory
was Pelé’s
brush with greatness. With thespian skills comparable to my
12-year-old my prowess with a soccer ball, he served
his purpose by giving the film
an authenticity it wouldn’t have had with a real actor. The rest is an enjoyable throwback that
pays almost like an homage to WWII epics from the ‘50s and ‘60s.
KITTY CONSENSUS:
PURR-R-R...LIKE A GOOD SCRATCH BEHIND THE EARS.
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