‘Bad’ Is Good
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

All film critics have their blind spots, soft spots, pet genres, favorite filmmakers, (in)defensible loves and hates. The present critic, for instance, is generally averse to romantic comedies, kid flicks, anything with Vince Vaughn, and movies about sports – unless kung fu can be considered a sport. So there’s easily a half-dozen reasons why “Bad News Bears” ought to strike out in my book.
First, it’s a movie about baseball. Whatever. Call me when Godard has something to say about our national pastime. It’s also a children’s movie, albeit a potty-mouthed one likely to send prudish parents into fits of disapproval. (Bonus point for that!) It’s based on a movie I haven’t seen and never much wanted to. Just what we need: another remake in a season lousy with them.
The trailer was uninspiring, the word of mouth tepid. And while there’s no sign of Vince Vaughn, it looked like the star, Billy Bob Thornton, was phoning in shtick left over from “Bad Santa.” So how is it that “Bad News Bears,” sight unseen, rose to the top of my summer must-see list? It was directed by Richard Linklater.
I’m no knee-jerk auteurist, but the fact of the matter is, Mr. Linklater has never made a bad movie – and yes, I’ve seen “The Newton Boys.” Most of them are good (“Slacker,” “The School of Rock”), a couple great (“Dazed and Confused,” “Waking Life”). At least one, “Before Sunrise,” has become a minor classic. Last year came the sequel, “Before Sunset,” a glorious masterpiece in a category all its own.
Sometime after I’d all but declared “Before Sunset” the finest American movie of the 21st century (there may be one or two rivals), a skeptic cornered me and asked for a one sentence definition of its genius. Easy: the film’s highly original relationship to real life. Now here comes “Bad News Bears,” the very definition of formulaic, its characters cliched to the core. What’s a devotee to do? It’s as if David Lynch followed up “Mulholland Drive” with a studio remake of “Rocky.”
Comedy, of course, is dependent on formulas, and Mr. Linklater has proved himself adept at playing them for all they’re worth. No one but Steven Soderbergh moves as easily from small-scale personal projects to big-league studio filmmaking, and few contemporary comedies are as swift and winning as “The School of Rock.” With the help of a wildly talented diva (Jack Black) and a quick-witted script, Mr. Linklater turned a sitcom premise into a master class in fleet Hollywood fun.
“Bad News Bears” is as much a remake of “School of Rock” as anything else. Motivated by money, a sad-sack grown-up helps a group of dorky kids with a self-esteem project. Obstacles are overcome, jokes are cracked, and by then end of the day, life lessons are learned. It’s predictable, with few surprises; there are moments, dead scenes, when you can feel Mr. Linklater going through the motions. But by the only measure that finally matters – is it funny? – “Bad News Bears” hits it out of the park.
Billy Bob Thornton is Morris Buttermaker, part-time exterminator and full-time drunk. After a micro-managing soccer mom (Marcia Gay Harden) convinces him, check in hand, to coach the pathetic Bears little league team, Morris dumps the dead rats out of his cooler, packs it with nonalcoholic beer, fills the cans with scotch, and heads out for the field.
There he meets the rebel, the fat kid, the black kid, the nerd, the kid in a wheelchair, the ethnic kid with the funny name, the sickly kid, and so on. “You guys look like the last s- I took,” he mutters. When a bag of bacon falls out of the fat kid’s pocket, he stands up for the Atkins diet. Tasked with finding a corporate sponsor for the uniforms, Morris makes a deal with the local strip club. Before long, zaftig dancers are cheering from the bleachers. Postgame parties are at Hooters.
Greg Kinnear co-stars as Roy Bullock, uptight alpha-male coach of the Yankees, the reigning local champs. Ever the dependable, uh, straight man, Mr. Kinnear makes a perfect foil for Mr. Thornton’s craggy, deadpan personae. In the role of a slightly less bad Santa, Mr. Thornton is denied the crowd-pleasing histrionics of the Jack Black variety. His thankless job is to wring humor from a character who doesn’t much care. It’s nicely underplayed; half his jokes come out in an inebriated half-mumble.
Morris’s claim to fame is a half-inning he once pitched in the majors. There’s a lovely scene, early in the film, where he sits around a pool with the kids, getting drunk and reminiscing about the good old days. His monologue doesn’t resolve into pathos or a punch line; the scene just sort of hangs there, indeterminate, and fades out.
You can feel Mr. Linklater’s touch in that unusual rhythm, the way it grows, organically, from the moment at hand. It’s in the timing of “Bad News Bears” that you know you’re at a Linklater film: the wry beat of a missed flyball; the ping-pong bounce of traded insults; the momentum of the crowd-pleasing training montages.
He’s not entirely on his game. For every pleasant cadence there’s a fumbled shot, typically when the screenplay demands something banal. Bill Lancaster, writer of the original, co-scripted the film with the scribes of “Bad Santa,” and you feel the two camps chafing against each other. “Bad News Bears” wants to play naughty and nice, and both get a bit thwarted in the compromise.
After much hilarity – the water-gun fight with extermination fluid is inspired – everything builds to the big game: seven innings of moral lessons. Morris will learn not to pick favorites; the kids will overcome their handicaps. Bullock is chastened: every home run in its place. Mr. Linklater bears the burden lightly, and wraps things up with a big goofy grin.