Nostalgia! Boy, does it come in handy at times like this. Why dwell on the impending doom ushered in by a Donald Trump presidency when you can travel back to a happier, simpler time – maybe a time when cartoon characters played basketball with Michael Jordan?
Yes, it’s the 20th anniversary of the theatrical release of Space Jam – the alleged classic in which the Chicago Bulls icon Jordan teamed up with the Looney Tunes to play a collection of jacked-up aliens in a game of basketball where punches, kicks, slaps, and dynamite were all legal.
In the years since this 90-minute product placement was unleashed, it’s taken on a significance within the culture that might not be appropriate for a film where Porky Pig wets himself. Some have begged for the long-rumored sequel starring LeBron James to finally come to fruition. Others, such as the NBA player Patrick Patterson, have claimed that Space Jam is “the perfect movie” and is too sacred to ever replicate. “It felt like … it actually happened,” he says in a piece for the Player’s Tribune.
Could Space Jam have actually happened, like Patterson said? Could aliens really kidnap animated characters and force them to play sports? Is Bill Murray really capable of a crisp, Magic Johnson-esque behind-the-back pass? Is this movie even actually good, or have clinically depressed millennials turned Space Jam into an avatar for their dashed childhood hopes and dreams, a salve for the crushing disappointment that is literally everything about being an adult? Let’s find out, shall we?
The film begins simply enough, with a young MJ shooting hoops in his backyard in 1973. His father does what any self-respecting dad should do: he encourages his kid to keep practicing and developing his game. This portion of the film resembles a naturalistic sports movie, an underdog story about a young black child who wants to learn to fly.
The journey for our hero is simple: after a stint as a minor league baseball player, Jordan must recapture his love of basketball in time to prevent the owner of a failing amusement park on another planet from kidnapping the Looney Tunes (Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, the Tasmanian Devil, Tweety Bird, etc) and forcing them to work as sideshow attractions. Why the Looney Tunes? Because said owner has a wall of TV monitors playing classic cartoons starring the Looney Tunes.
You might be wondering how Jordan is as an actor. After all, this was his one and only cinematic starring role. Like Eminem in 8 Mile and Pamela Anderson in Barb Wire, he went out on top, an unquestioned master of his craft.
Just kidding, he’s terrible! It doesn’t matter what the situation is: Jordan will crack a wry smile. He could be riding in Wayne Knight’s beat-up old car or being sucked through a hole in a golf course and spit back out in a parallel universe full of talking animals – he will eventually smile. I have to assume this is a residual from his highly lucrative career as a commercial pitchman. At the end of an advert, the pitchman must smile, so that you, the potential consumer, will be aware that the product in question will render all of your pain and torment manageable. Here’s Michael Jordan smiling at the end of a Hanes commercial. Here’s Michael Jordan smiling at the end of a McDonald’s commercial. Here’s Michael Jordan smiling in Space Jam, in a scene where he’s supposed to look imposing.
The Looney Tunes don’t fare much better. The script crams in every cliched old-timey joke the writers can think of, even referencing the movie Patton, which is, of course, every child’s favorite movie. After Jordan travels to the Earth’s core, where scary cartoon land exists, he’s examined by Daffy Duck to make sure he’s as impressive a physical specimen as his reputation suggests. Daffy peers into Jordan’s ear canal and in addition to a fair amount of waxy build-up, there’s a lone paper clip inside Jordan’s skull. Is this implying that NBA Hall of Famer and six-time NBA champion Michael Jordan puts metal objects inside his own ear canal? Was this a childhood injury? Will the paper clip prove to be crucial in the third act denouement?
Absolutely not on all counts. It’s just a cheap visual gag. Michael Jordan doesn’t put paper clips inside his ears. That was a dirty rumor started by Karl Malone, who, to this day, is still upset he was not given a part in Space Jam.
The NBA players who did make the cut include Charles Barkley, Patrick Ewing, Muggsy Bogues, and the 7ft Mormon bust Shawn Bradley, whose presence in this film is more mystifying than even the presence of the sexy rabbit Lola Bunny, whom all the cartoons want to make love to. I don’t mean to slut-shame an animated character, but the presence of a female Bugs Bunny in short shorts adds nothing to the film except a few scenes of male cartoons cat-calling her after she dunks and bends over to retrieve the ball.
Sex isn’t just for anthropomorphic, English-speaking critters. The minions of the owner of the amusement park (subtly named Moron Mountain) steal the basketball ability of the aforementioned NBA players, turning them from puny mutant punching bags into the Monstars – a fearsome collection of meatheads and thugs. So, in other words, the 1994 New York Knicks. Patrick Ewing, stripped of his talent, seeks out the aid of a psychiatrist. “Are there other areas of his life besides basketball where you find yourself unable to perform?” the psychiatrist asks. Ewing takes a beat to consider his query before responding no. Never forget this powerful axiom: Patrick Ewing is never not horny.
The Looney Tunes (or Tune Squad, as they are referred to on the hardwood) hardly practice before what the announcers call “the ultimate game”. It shows, as the Monstars take a commanding lead in the first half. It’s exactly what you’d expect in a contest between the greatest player of all time and five brightly colored creatures that look like they’ve gotten into Barry Bonds’s personal juice stash. The Tune Squad comes back to tie the game in predictable fashion thanks to a tepid Jordan halftime pep talk (and a clever gambit by Bugs where he pretends that a bottle of water is actually a special potion Jordan uses to play better). In lieu of any basketball skill, the Tune Squad uses explosives, deception, unchecked sex appeal, and the five-time NBA MVP to even the odds with the freakish beasts.
The Monstars try their best to reclaim the lead, going as far as maiming their opponents, necessitating Jordan adding Bill Murray to fill the final roster spot. Murray is obviously having a great time acting with Michael Jordan and a collection of tennis balls on sticks where cartoons are supposed to be, so good for him. Jordan wins the game with a miraculous dunk from the half-court line over an impossibly large defender as the clock slowly ticks to zero. The Tune Squad absolutely benefit from a game clock that stretched the final ten seconds into about two-and-a-half minutes of screen time. Also, Michael Jordan develops the ability to stretch his arms like Reed Richards from the Fantastic Four, which came in handy in the 1998 Finals.
Finally, Jordan stands triumphant, makes the Monstars return the NBA players’ talent (though I don’t think Shawn Bradley ever got his back), and rejoins the Bulls as the credits roll. Is Patrick Patterson right? Is this the perfect movie? Only if your idea of the perfect movie includes Newman from Seinfeld being flattened by a giant alien ass and then getting reinflated with what looks like a leaf blower. I laughed once, and it was when the psychiatrist asked Patrick Ewing if he was impotent. Actually, I also laughed any time Larry Bird had to try acting. If you are truly invested in Space Jam getting a sequel where the Monstars are out for revenge, but uh oh, they didn’t count on LeBron James, then I recommend you rewatch the original Space Jam. If, after Michael Jordan’s arm stretches 30ft to enable a physically impossible game-winning dunk, you are still prepared to greenlight this film tomorrow, then by all means, create a whitehouse.gov petition. I can see Trump making this a key tenet of his re-election campaign.
