Sweetwater

I still remember my first time seeing the Globetrotters play on TV. I must have been 8 or 10 or something like that. I was flipping around the channels, and saw basketball being played with a colorful ball by a team whose name was only familiar from pop culture references. I was mesmerized by their blending of sports and comedy routine. It was clear all the players were immensely talented, and could do some crazy stunts. I asked my dad what was going on, and he gave me the basics on who they were and who the Generals were and so on. Along with being confused about what it meant to be an independent basketball team, I distinctly remember wondering why they weren’t NBA players; clearly they were excellent! I was too young to understand that such specialty skills don’t necessarily translate against top competition, much as many an outstanding college basketball star has gotten swallowed by the highly competitive and fast paced NBA.

This story provides another wrinkle in that answer, looking at the league’s legacy of racism. The idea of the NBA as an all-white league is laughable now. For one, they’d already had a non-white player: Wat Misaka only played three games for the Knicks, so he quickly washed out, but as an Asian-American man that achievement is his. But more so, the league is predominantly black these days (on the court; back office is another story). In fact, about 75% of the league’s players are black. Which makes this story all the more important, since it reminds us that many of the equality gains made by the US didn’t come about all that long ago.

Sweetwater tells the story of Nat “Sweetwater” Clifton (Everett Osborne), and how he helped to break the color barrier in the NBA. Nat travels around with the Harlem Globetrotters, but is clearly discontented. He loves playing basketball, and has a ton of skill, but dreams of the NBA. However, the team governors have just agreed to not draft black players, to protect the sanctity of the game. But Knicks coach Joe Lapchick (Jeremy Piven) is convinced Sweetwater’s game is the future of the league, and is determined to get him onto the team.

The first question I always have with movies “inspired by a true story” is which parts are basically true? This turns out to be a bit unclear, at least based on the bit of poking around I did afterwards. Much of what happened in the film, including broad strokes and motivations, receive little to no mention online (that I could find). Which is kind of curious. For example, the only mention I can find of black players being blocked from the league claims it was because the team governors didn’t want to piss off Abe Saperstein (played by Kevin Pollak) due to how much money Globetrotters games made for them. While the movie presents it in a way that feels very believable (blackballing definitely happens), I guess both make sense. And given that 1950 was less than five years after the NBA formed (as the BAA), black players made it into the league fairly quickly. Still, only given the context of racism and segregation is it unsurprising there were no black players at the outset. The Harlem Globetrotters had been dazzling audiences for a few decades at that point.

So maybe don’t take this as a perfectly factually accurate movie. Instead, it’s trying to make a point about racism and merit and segregation by presenting events in a way that hits that home. Capturing Truth, as it were, even if the specifics are fictional. Because it’s not like any of those moments are unbelievable; this takes place in 1950 USA.

And it repeatedly reminds you what that means. While it sands the edges a bit and trusts you know just how bad and violent it got, there are a bunch of scenes in which either the whole team or Sweetwater himself are barred from restaurants and hotels. A couple of them land, such as an early scene at a gas station. Most poignantly, they’re always denied hotel rooms, and are forced to sleep on their small, run down bus. By and large, these scenes are used to contrast with the team having just proven their merit, to show that society just doesn’t care. Merit means nothing to a society which has prejudged you. Racism trumps capitalism.

It is certain to make it clear, too, that what’s really holding these players back is the white governors and society at large. Regardless of whether it happened, we see them vote to not draft any black players, despite the commissioner insisting the rules don’t prevent it. And even the ones fighting for it are doing so through the lens of business, and how much money the Globetrotters bring in. There are no good guys in that room; there are just less bad guys. Even Joe comes across as more interested in what Sweetwater can do for the team than in what’s best for Sweetwater. Which is emphasized in a conversation late in the movie where he, Abe, and Knicks governor Ned Irish (Cary Elwes) are deciding Sweetwater’s fate, notably without consulting Sweetwater.

Abe is probably the person who could most be said to want their success, but he’s no better. Sure, as a Jewish man, he also knows what it’s like to be discriminated against, and does fight for the dignity of his players in a few scene. But it’s not clear how much he really respects them. He underpays them, especially relative to what he pays the other team. He doesn’t have faith in their ability to win a straight up game. So he also seems to view his players largely as a business opportunity rather than, ya know, people.

All of that is pretty good and well executed. It’s satisfying that there’s no mystical enlightened white guy who’s pushing for integration because it was morally right. Because that was never why the color barrier was broken; it was always business.

The issue is the movie doesn’t seem to know that.

Or maybe it’s clearer to say it seems to thinks the business rationale is good. At a few key moments, the score swells triumphantly, while Sweetwater is nowhere to be seen. The movie seems to treat Joe as the hero since he’s the one pushing for it, despite his selfish motivations. Joe is one of the few who understands that this quicker, more elaborate style of play is the future of the game. You can absolutely do a version of this story where Joe is a more complicated character. But that’s not this movie, so to put him forward as the hero is a bit odd.

Really, the hero is Sweetwater, and he’s absolutely the center of the film. We get more of his life outside basketball, and his connections with others who don’t really fit in the world they inhabit. But since the movie has a point to make, and Sweetwater doesn’t have any power (just tremendous skill), it needs to find someone to focus on who does. Which leads to some less than ideal moments.

And a bunch of the act three stuff is eye rolling in one direction or the other. Either too saccharine (especially some of the history they rewrote for dramatic purposes) or too cartoonish. Although that portion of the movie is where we get some of the most impactful displays of racism, they’re all “blink and you’ll miss it”. So while it has some deserved triumph within, it doesn’t really stick the landing.

As for performances, newcomer Everett Osborne does a phenomenal job embodying Sweetwater’s growing frustration and indignance at his treatment. All he wants is a chance to prove himself, and you can sense his disengagement the moment he steps off that court. He gives a few impassioned speeches and carries them incredibly well; you really feel the weight of his words crashing against the others. I hope to see him around for years to come.

Other than that, there’s really nothing remarkable about the film. It’s a good tale to tell, as it’s not one I think most people know, basketball fans or not. It’s certainly less discussed than Jackie Robinson breaking into MLB. And by casting a bunch of big names, maybe it’ll garner more attention and cause people to look into it more.

So I’d recommend seeing it, but don’t go too far out of your way.