An Air of desperation

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This article was published 06/04/2023 (1259 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

This Ben Affleck-directed flick is breezily comic, lightly dramatic and undeniably entertaining, but its premise is peculiar. Air is basically an underdog sports story in which the scrappy little upstart is, um, the Nike corporation, a massive global business that posts massive profits.

Based on a true story that’s been given some deft Hollywood massaging by rookie scripter Alex Convery, the action is set in the 1980s. (And how – just in case we might forget, people seem to be constantly listening to Born in the U.S.A. on cassette, playing with their Coleco electronics and watching Jane Fonda do aerobics.)

Also in the 1980s, all the NBA stars are wearing either Adidas or Converse shoes, and Sonny Vaccaro (Matt Damon), the man in charge of endorsement deals for Nike’s overlooked basketball division, is frustrated. This is not Damon in lean, mean Jason Bourne mode but Damon in podgy, middle-aged mode, which suits him down to the ground. We can feel his ease and pleasure here, as he plays a sardonically funny guy who is also seriously obsessed with basketball, not just at work but at his divorced-guy apartment, where he eats frozen dinners in front of a TV, with a stack of VHS tapes nearby, closely watching the same plays over and over.

Sonny is also a gambler – when he has a layover in Las Vegas, the casino workers call him “Mr. V.” He doesn’t want to hedge his bets by signing three mediocre mid-range guys. He wants to go all in on one player, and he’s ready to risk the entire basketball budget – and maybe his job, and other people’s jobs — on signing Michael Jordan, then a relatively unknown college player from North Carolina.

First, though, Sonny has to get past David Falk, played by Chris Messina as a hilariously aggressive caricature of a sports agent, always slamming down phones and saying things like “I don’t have friends. I have clients.”

Sonny makes another risky bet by appealing directly to the Jordan family. Co-worker Howard White (Chris Tucker) advises that with college athletes, you need to “go through the mamas,” but this is considered unprofessional — and the kind of thing that makes sports agents, especially David Falk, scream over the phone.

It also leads to some really well-played one-on-ones between Sonny and Mrs. Jordan (Viola Davis, doing quietly, steadily phenomenal work).

Meanwhile, back at Nike HQ, Sonny has to bring round dubious marketing director Rob Strasser (Jason Bateman) and Nike founder Phil Knight (Affleck in a small but key comic role), who’s an uneasy combination of Porsche-driving corporate killer and west-coast Buddhist who likes to walk around barefoot and do breathing exercises during meetings.

Fans will enjoy this reunion of Affleck and Damon, and they seem to be enjoying it, too. When Sonny and Phil get nostalgic about the early, uncertain, youthful days of the company — “It’s like the old Nike,” Sonny says after pulling an all-nighter — you get the feeling Affleck and Damon might be likewise thinking back to their Good Will Hunting days.

Affleck as director (he’s also known for The Town, Live by Night and Argo) is trying hard to wring suspense out of a story whose ending most people know, with lots of urgent phone calls, lots of yelling, lots of extreme closeups and dizzying camera moves.

But in the end, we’re getting all rah-rah about Nike’s market share. It’s telling that the big inspirational speech – a staple for any come-from-behind sports story—takes place not in the locker room but in the boardroom, with potential billions on the table. This is a blissfully uncritical and incurious look at the Nike corporation, the ethically tricky issues around celebrity branding, and the business of sport.

Ultimately, the Nike-Jordan collaboration would shift some of the power away from corporations to better deals for athletes, often young Black men, and this does bring up issues of race and agency and who profits from whose labour. There is a serious theme here, but it only comes in right at the end, and not as any kind of moral crusade but as the unintended consequence of Nike’s desperation.

The film also makes the unusual decision to shoot the young MJ (Damian Young) only from behind, a bit like the portrayal of Jesus in Ben-Hur. We see the back of his head or his hand reaching out to take a shoe. He has one word of dialogue.

As part of this revolutionary sports branding partnership, Nike promised Jordan that instead of the man fitting into the shoe, the shoe would be built around the man. We get lots of glamour shots of that iconic swooshy sneaker, but almost no sense of the man who wore it.

alison.gillmor@freepress.mb.ca