What if I told you that a pair of magical shoes could turn a tapped-out bumpkin character into a basketball star in a movie that manages to disrespect every major religion, and many other things? (It's a rhetorical question, that is what happens in Slam Dunk Ernest.) (Sorry for any confusion.)
The Sixers won a basketball game! Now what?
Michael Ritchie's Reagan-era ode to high school football has some weird ideas on race and gender, and refuses to check its privilege or anything else. It somehow works anyway, or maybe because of that. Also Goldie Hawn.
In which Michael Keaton repeatedly touches the lives of Maria Conchita Alonso and her son, Samir from Office Space, with the power of forgiveness, temporary employment, and hockey.
In which a football team fires bazookas in an inexpensive-seeming foreign country, because Ernest Borgnine's ghost told them to. This does not please ethnically ambiguous despot Henry Silva any more than you think it might. Spoiler alert?