Re-imagined buddy basketball movie mostly hangs together
When it comes to shaggy dog sports movies of the late 20th century, few did it better than Ron Shelton. As a writer and director, he understood the appeal of semi-ridiculous, semi-charming men past their prime looking for one last shot at greatness — or at least a half-baked redemption. Sandwiched between the soulful minor league romance of “Bull Durham” and dusty pro golfing dreams of “Tin Cup,” Shelton turned to the pickup basketballs games of Los Angeles for 1992’s “White Men Can’t Jump,” a buddy film starring Woody Harrelson and Wesley Snipes as an unlikely pair who team up to hustle any takers.
But “White Men Can’t Jump” no longer exists to be fondly remembered and rewatched, but as a library title to be re-imagined. Shelton is credited as a co-writer here with Kenya Barris and Doug Hall. The original is on Hulu. The new version is on Hulu. All things being equal, what would compel audiences to watch the remake?
Stepping into Harrelson and Snipes’ basketball shoes are Jack Harlow and Sinqua Walls, and they have a nice chemistry together. But they’re stuck inside a movie that lacks shape and propulsion — and the effervescent presence of Rosie Perez and her “Jeopardy!” ambitions — but adds a back story about thwarted potential.
In the first movie, basketball was just a means to an end: fast cash. Now it’s that plus something more. Better known for his music career, this is Harlow’s first major role as an actor. He plays a one-time college player
named Jeremy, whose dreams died with his two bum knees. Now he’s scraping by selling detox potions and coaching one-on-one.
Harlow has the benefit of a far more seasoned scene partner in Walls, playing a top high school prospect named Kamal who flamed out after decking a heckler at a game. Ten years later, he’s married with a kid and working as a package delivery driver. Walls brings a sense of melancholy to the role and instead of the brash, cocky guy of the original, he’s skeptical and contemplative and bruised. That gives things a slightly more serious subtext.
Kamal and Jeremy are in need of fast money, but their pickup game hustle is missing that looselimbed combination of con-artistry and jokefilled, testosterone-fueled posturing. This should be more fun.
Maybe it’s not fair to compare the two movies, but it’s instructive because the changes don’t deepen or improve the story so much as rob it of what made it interesting in the first place. Harrelson played a mostly likable mess of a man who was his own worst enemy; Snipes
played a fast-talking, street-savvy type who wasn’t above hustling his own partner. But here, Harlow is closer to the human embodiment of a golden retriever looking for a home, while Walls is saddled with character beats that amount to rolling his eyes at his partner’s weirdo antics. Even the trash talking is minimal and flat.
In other words, everything feels cleaner. No betrayals. No massive debts owed to scary guys. No real banter. And the women are barely more than plot points, although Teyana Taylor does a lot with the little she’s given as Kamal’s wife. Lance Reddick, who died in March, shows up briefly as Kamal’s father, and it’s bittersweet to see him in one of his last roles.
Despite it all, the movie mostly hangs together. But at its core, this isn’t a story about two hustlers. Deep down, Kamal and Jeremy still pine for the NBA. A truer, more shambolic story would have spent time sorting out why that’s such a pipe dream now that they’re in their late 20s. Instead, in the end, the movie chooses fantasy.