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Carl Brashear has led a remarkable life. The son of a Kentucky sharecropper, he dropped out of school in seventh grade to help on the farm. In 1948 at the age of seventeen, he joined the newly desegregated Navy and was assigned to be a cook, one of the few positions open to a black sailor. Through sheer perseverance, including writing over 100 letters, he was admitted to the Navy's Dive School program. He became a highly-decorated diver despite the intense prejudice he faced, and he was on his way to becoming the first African-American Master Diver when he suffered a crippling injury. Even that, however, couldn't stop him from reaching his goal. On first glance, this inspiring tale sounds like a perfect match for Hollywood storytelling. Unfortunately, the movie version of Brashear's life, Men of Honor, ends up as just another tepid bio-pic. 

Part of the problem is with the decisions made by screenwriter Scott Marshall Smith (making his big-screen debut), the most prominent of which is to invent the character of Billy Sunday. If you've seen the commercials, that's the guy played by Robert De Niro (Raging Bull) who keeps screaming, "I am God!" He's the naval equivalent of a drill sergeant, an ornery man who's upset that he himself can't dive anymore. Why can't he dive? Well, he took too many risks as a younger diver, not willing that any should perish, and now he's paying the consequences.

Sunday's obvious narrative role is to be a foil for Brashear (played by Cuba Gooding, Jr., Jerry Maguire). Early in the film, Sunday tests and taunts Brashear. Later, he grudgingly comes to accept Brashear's talent and drive; and by the end of the film, the two are best friends, working together against the Naval bureaucracy.

The more subtle purpose Sunday fulfills is to remove any discomfort a white audience might experience. First off, De Niro's presence (and top billing) changes Men of Honor from a "black" film into a "buddy" film, with the two opposites joining together to fight the system. Secondly, by making Sunday a largely sympathetic character--his initial racism is much less severe than others around him and even that quickly dissipates--the tremendous prejudice Brashear faced is mitigated. Furthermore, because Sunday is portrayed as a spectacularly courageous man and because Brashear can't pass his final test without Sunday's help, the former's outstanding achievement is diminished. Yes, Brashear's real life is exemplary, but its cinematic impact is undermined by the insertion of this fictional character.

Also undermining the story is the movie's tedious rate. Weighed down by its own earnestness, the film broods over every conflict, of which there are many. Will Brashear get into diving school, will he pass his exams, will he ever gain the respect of his classmates, will he pass the final diving test, will he become a master diver? It would seem that with so many obstacles, the movie would actually inspire tension and excitement. Instead, the film's lack of pace--each conflict is drawn out to epic lengths--bleeds the passion out of the picture. It doesn't help that Mark Isham's (A River Runs Through It) score is obvious in the worst ways--bombastic during the diving rescue operations, syrupy during the rare emotional moments.

On the movie's plus side, the acting is quite strong. Robert De Niro can do crotchety-with-a-heart-of-gold while taking a bath, so that's no surprise. But Cuba Gooding, Jr. is surprisingly good. After seeing him in dreck like What Dreams May Come, Instinct, and Chill Factor, I figured that his Jerry Maguire performance was an instance of an actor happening on the only role he can play. Here, though, Gooding largely forsakes his array of acting tics (biting down on the quivering lip to show emotion, continuous shouting to show excitement, the deer-in-the-headlights look at any other time) for a steady, even inspiring performance.

The supporting actors don't have much to do. Michael Rapaport and Charlize Theron, both of whom coincidentally have two other movies in theaters right now, are adequate as Brashear's friend and Sunday's wife, respectively; and Aunjanue Ellis (Map of the World) is fine as Brashear's enduring spouse. The movie's primary villains--Hal Holbrook as Mister Pappy (don't ask) and David Conrad as Lt. Hanks--are so caricatured as to be mere strawmen.

George Tillman, Jr., who made his directorial debut with the pleasantly entertaining Soul Food, handles this big-budget picture as if he's wearing bulky mittens. It's not that the film looks bad or unprofessional, but there's no grace to it, no nuance, and surprisingly little emotion. There might be something noble about taking your children to see this story of a true African-American hero, but I'm afraid that they (and you) would fall asleep before the movie's conclusion. 

J. Robert Parks 11/5/2000