★★
“Two minute penalty, unnecessary cliches.”
Printed directly from the finest template of sports movie tropes, this is less a script than a bullet list of plot points you’ve seen a thousand times before. Struggling single mom (check) Paula Taymore (Gilsig) had to give up a promising ice hockey career to take care of her son (check). A bar argument leads to a challenge match against a local men’s team (check). Paula has to assemble a women’s side (check), from a ragtag group (check), including an ex-convict (check), sassy Black girl (check) and a witch (check). Can she overcome adversity and local prejudice (check), find love with hunky single dad Steve Cooper (Priestley, and check) and triumph in the big game? (BIG BOLD CHECK, LARGE FONT).
It’s not just the storyline that comes out like a prepackaged frozen dinner, the style and approach to the content is equally safe, competent and, ultimately, bland. That means training montages, a soundtrack of bland country and pseudo-inspirational pop/rock, and attempts to yank on audience’s emotional heartstrings which could not be more blatantly obvious. Yet there are reasons these things have become overused stereotypes: it’s because they are effective. You may know, with absolute certainty, the women’s team are going to fight back after falling 4-1 down. This doesn’t make it any less heartwarming when it happens, and this is effective enough as undemanding cinematic comfort food. It’s the kind of movie you curl up on the couch with, clutching a cup of hot chocolate, some Sunday afternoon.
What’s odd is that there are moments where it does have the opportunity to break away from the obvious. For example, there’s a plot thread where one of the women absconds with the hard-raised team funds. However, this is discarded almost as soon as it has begun, with no actual resolution. In its place suddenly appears, out of nowhere, the fact that the goalkeeper is throwing the game for gambling purposes. Still, nothing a few stern words from Paula can’t sort out, amIrite? There’s no effort at all put in on the side of their opponents, who might as well be a pack of skating Neanderthals. Their idea of wit is putting a camera in the women’s locker-room, an element that has not aged well, to put it mildly.
The performances are likely better than the material deserves. Kidder, as Paula’s mom, manages to be heartfelt without coming over as insincere or sacchariney, and Gilsig has her moments, mostly when struggling to balance her family responsibilities with her own hopes and goals. Of the supporting cast, Marquis comes off best, making a strong impression as acidic goth Felicity Carelli, though singer Michie Mee seems thoroughly out of place. Whoever thought it made sense to have her rap the Canadian national anthem, probably has found themselves on an RCMP watch-list. You may not need to know anything about hockey to watch this. However, you won’t learn anything about it either.
Dir: Kari Skogland
Star: Jessalyn Gilsig, Margot Kidder, Jason Priestley, Juliette Marquis
a.k.a. Hockey Mom or Anyone’s Game