It’s the 1960s, and young Freddie’s father is coaching him on the field while his mother is stuffing him with protein-rich food. ![]() Is he gonna say it? Is he gonna say it?! Right here? At the two-minute mark of this movie? With a faraway look Royal responds: “But he was My All American.” The audience can only light up a collective cigarette after such an early climax, and the film dissolves to flashback. He responds: “Freddie Steinmark” she counters: “He wasn’t an All American.” Then there’s a pause. A journalism student is interviewing him, and asks who was the best All-American he ever coached. We open with Aaron Eckhart as legendary University of Texas football honcho Darrell Royal in the world’s cheapest looking old-age makeup. The momentum of sheer will carries its saccharine story into the end zone. Every step of this motion picture is 100% predictable and yet, like a determined running back, it simply lowers its head and rams forth. For sheer audacity, nothing beats 23 Blast, in which tenacity overcomes the slight obstacle of a blind teammate, but based-on-a-true-story My All American has to win some sort of trophy for its dedication to playing by-the-book. My All American is the fourth low-budget wide-release faith-based picture set on the gridiron since Where the Game Stands Tall in August 2014. ![]() A merican football is played on a rectangle, but movies about it can sure be square.
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