On Stand and Deliver

This formulaic film starring the wonderful Edward James Olmos and the usually reprehensible -(to me anyway) – Lou Diamond Phillips, is one of my favorite feel-good films. I only saw it once, and then yesterday – while grocery shopping at the Pathmark, I saw this big bin of previously viewed videos. My eyes immediately rested on Stand and Deliver, and I remembered how much I dug that movie once upon a time. So I bought it, for 3.99, and watched it last night. Turns out my first impression of it had been right on.

What I think is so funny and so original about it is that it is basically a sports movie. It has that typical formula: a “coach” comes into a new situation, and is faced by not only a bunch of “slacker students”, but also an apathetic bureacracy. These kids are doomed from the start. The “coach” becomes convinced that everyone is selling the “slacker students” short, and becomes driven by the desire to show everyone wrong. He also becomes driven by the desire to show these kids that they can make something of their lives. And of course, there’s a forumalic outcome (no less satisfying, just because it’s a formula): The students triumph over adversity. The bureaucracy is shamed into admitting they underestimated these kids. The “coach” is vindicated. The reason the formula is used so often is because it works.

But what is so funny about Stand and Deliver is that even though it has the traditional formula of a sports movie – it’s not about sports at all. It’s about calculus. Calculus is as competitive and as rewarding and as challenging as any basketball game.

There are two prolonged scenes of kids taking the AP Test. And, of course, since it’s a TEST – all is silent. We see them concentrating. We see them thinking. We see their calculus scribbles on the page. It goes on forever. And it’s awesome because it is AS gripping as any of the “big game” or “big match” scenes in a formula sports movie.

Olmos is terrific as the Math teacher who refuses to believe that the Hispanic kids cannot (and should not) learn Calculus. Olmos, a sexy virile man, is so convincing, with the comb-over, and all the pens in his pocket. And his little pot belly. It’s not a caricature or a cliche. It is real.

And it’s so ridiculous to get a lump in my throat when Lou Diamond Phillips – the really tough kid, who refuses to carry books to class because his home-boy loser friends will make fun of him – gets a 5 on the AP Test. (A perfect score).

Oh, and here’s a funny thing: Andy Garcia has a small part in it. It’s at the beginning of his career. He plays one of the investigators with the testing service called to the school to look into “irregularities” on some of the students’ AP exams. It’s an important part, plot-wise, but emotionally and character-wise, it’s a nothing part. He’s a functionary. His scenes serve a purpose, of course, but there’s no need to do a bunch of acting. Just come in, be official, say your lines, and move on with it. Well. Andy Garcia acts up a STORM. He is trying to let us know that THIS GUY (himself) is SOMETHING ELSE. It’s a common amateur’s mistake. I’ve done it myself. You can’t accept that your role should be played SIMPLY because if you play it too simply, then no one will notice you!. I He says some lines in really dramatic (inappropriately so) whispers. He suddenly EXPLODES in Al Pacino-esque schtick. He over-complicates moments. He gives random unexplained pauses. He looks away, contemplating things. Inappropriately. Dude. You play a bureaucrat. JUST SAY THE LINES.

I laughed watching him. It was like he was Scarface, trapped in a bureaucrat costume. Glad to see he outgrew THAT phase in his acting – and actually became a star, so he doesn’t have to work so hard now.