Tale of 1st black Heisman winner fails to tackle inner workings
By Phil Villarreal
Pvillarreal@azstarnet.com
Tucson, Arizona | Published: 10.09.2008
The first black man to win the Heisman Trophy, as well as the first to become the top pick in the NFL draft, Ernie Davis was a titan well worth remembering on film.
With his remarkable work on the football field, he did more to advance civil rights than most people realize.
As detailed in the straightforward biopic "The Express," Davis, who was killed in his prime by leukemia, crushed stereotypes as well as shoulder pads as a Syracuse running back in the late 1950s and early '60s. In an era of boiling racial tensions, Davis and his teammates confronted fearful minds and hearts with his overwhelming gridiron success as well as his upstanding character.
The ever-stoic Davis was given many reasons to lash out — hostile, insult-spewing, projectile-hurling crowds, bullying teammates, even a stubborn coach who sometimes refused to let him play — but endured his trials with a Job-like patience.
Director Gary Fleder, known for thrillers such as "Runaway Jury" and "Don't Say a Word," segues easily into a different genre. His film isn't flashy. It reflects the matter-of-fact efficiency of its subject. Fleder takes the audience through the life of Davis in a series of sentimental vignettes. Every line and confrontation has a specific point, which helps the pacing but doesn't quite let you grasp Davis' drive.
Only during clashes between Davis and his coach, Ben Schwartzwalder (Dennis Quaid) — a trailblazer of sorts who nevertheless clings to the ways of the past — does the movie come close to illuminating Davis' inner workings. Rob Brown ("Coach Carter") is convincing as a tunnel-visioned athletic dynamo, but the script doesn't give him much of a chance to delve into the character. Quaid does a fine job balancing the coach's longing to win at every cost with his concerns about putting Davis in danger, as well as his own ingrained reluctance to rock the establishment.
On-field action is bone-jarring and mostly convincing, although definitely exaggerated. Nearly every play seems to end with opposing tacklers taking cheap shots at Davis, slugging him repeatedly right in front of the officials.
There's no doubt Davis faced his fair amount of rules-defying cruelty, but Fleder leans too heavily on the melodrama. The director takes a more nuanced path in foreshadowing Davis' illness.
Like a methodical, efficient two-minute drill, "The Express" accomplishes what it sets out to do. It chronicles Davis' trials and triumphs well enough. But still, it leaves you wondering what was going on inside the helmet.
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