At the same time the script doesn't have enough anecdotal detail for romance. In other words, the boys are not as individuated as the Knights of the Round Table, capable of sustaining strands of narrative of their own. There's tons of material there; if the movie weren't fighting itself over its approach it could even go in for the supernatural--with a title like Miracle, why not? (All we get to single the boys out are a few minor injuries and the goalie's unemployed, dispirited Dad who perks up as the team moves on towards victory and thus stands in for the whole country. He's like a Saxon yeoman cheering on Ivanhoe at a joust.)

The movie's Brooks himself insists throughout the nine months of training that there's no larger message involved, no romance amplitude, that it's just about getting the boys to play the best game they're capable of. (He's scrupulously trying to pull back from making it all about himself, getting back the glory he felt he was robbed of by being cut from the victorious 1960 team. Click here for background information.) But when Brooks sees and hears how the fans and media go wild over the victory he's aware there's been more to it. In essence, though it isn't put explicitly, he acknowledges the romance element. It's there, but it's been assumed without really being developed.

It's certainly not as if the movie's interpretation transcended the limits of romance. Despite the unlikeliness of the heroes it doesn't contain a nuance of irony (which is perhaps why Kurt Russell as Brooks can wear plaid jackets without looking retro, much less cheesy.) This also means the movie misses out on the great irony that Brooks's inspiration is to implement a more communal style of play in order to defeat the Soviets. It's beating the Soviet team at their own game, but it's also using a principle of Communism to win a p.r. victory in the Cold War against the bastion of that system. The best you can say for the movie's approach is that it does avoid melodrama. For instance, the committee that hires Brooks doesn't have any underhanded motives, and the Soviet team is simply shown as a group of more experienced, rougher players, intimidating-because-it-works but not evil.

Clunky as Miracle is, if you have any feeling for this country it will probably work for you. And I don't mean that it will work despite such sequences as the breakthrough in Oslo when a disgusted Brooks keeps the team on the ice after they've lost to the Norwegians and practices them until after the rink manager has turned off the lights, the payoff coming when an exhausted player finally gets that he's playing for the UNITED (wheeze) STATES (wheeze) OF AMERICA (wheeze) and not his college team anymore--it will work because of such sequences. (A quick shot of the Twin Towers in New York gets its effect, too, and updates the movie's concern for American confidence in the world.)