Putting 'Celtic Pride' to shame

By Constantine Nasr
Staff Writer

The question has become apparent: How much torture can audiences take before they reach their breaking point and revolt? With the slew of continuous bad filmmaking, especially bad comedy in 1996, it would be better for most people to just stop watching now. While they're ahead. They can all shun the theaters, rent something (good) they haven't seen, and solve this sick problem now. For when the source of the plague--the Hollywood machine--ceases to be fed, the plague may well go away.
"Celtic Pride" is the latest so-called comedy of 1996, a year that just keeps getting worse and worse. I couldn't really believe this film was a comedy, both because the once-every-half-hour laughs weren't enough to justify the price of the ticket and because the subject matter was only by a great stretch comedic. It might be called black comedy: "Celtic Pride" is a cruel jab at sports fans and their obsessive, one-track minds. When all is said and done, it leaves its audience with a bitter feeling that conjures up not pity, not relief, but an unsatisfying recognition of just how distasteful movies have become.
Mike O'Hara (Daniel Stern) and Jimmy Flannery (Dan Aykroyd) are two of Boston's most dedicated Celtics fans; both have given up their own social lives in order to leech onto their favorite basketball team. Mike, a gym teacher and basketball wannabe, is on the verge of a divorce. Jimmy lives a lonely life as a septic tank maintenance man. The yuks are rolling in, I know.
When the Celtics lose one game to the Utah Jazz in the NBA playoffs, our heroic fans decide to sabotage the Jazz's leading player Lewis Scott (Damon Wayans) by, well, getting him a little tipsy before the final game. They succeed, not wisely but too well--the two bumblers wake up the next morning to the shocking realization that they have kidnapped the hoopster as well. In an attempt to be loyal Celts fans (it's a good time to remember that the word "fan" comes from "fanatic") Mike and Jimmy decide to hold Lewis hostage until after the game.
With "Sgt. Bilko" and "Getting Away With Murder" already in and out of theaters, April seems to be Aykroyd's month of nightmares. "Celtic Pride," alas, is no exception, adding another to the once-great comic's list of poor endeavors. The studio could have titled this project "Melted Pride" as a better reflection of just how terrible Aykroyd's turn here is. His Jimmy is a pathetic loser without a hook, as is partner Stern's Mike. If you saw "Bilko," you'll remember how unnaturally unfunny Ackroyd's bumbling commandant was. "Celtic Pride" takes an even lower road, making both character and actor objects of audience mockery.
Stern seems to just be along for the ride, perhaps trying to bounce back from commercial duds like "Bushwacked." He's believable as Mike O'Hara. Not likeable, but believable.
The tragedy (well, one of many) of "Celtic Pride" is that its greatest comic potential, Damon Wayans, never has a chance to let loose. For most of the picture he's on the basketball court; the one scene which let his possibilities shine, one of those laughs mentioned above, was clumsily cut short. Wayans needed much more screen time, at least enough to develop his character to the point at which the film's end would have made a bit of sense. As a comedian, Wayans has talent to spare, but with every "Celtic Pride" he makes his chances of ending up back on television (remember Martin Short and Robert Townsend?) go up a notch.
Some brief words of note: the few bright spots in this trash include a visually amazing Nike spoof, Jimmy's very funny dream sequence, Christopher McDonald as the stressed-out Jazz coach and an arena-rock score courtesy of Basil Pouledouris.
Larry Bird's surprise cameo worked well.
Deion Sanders' didn't. Sorry to spoil the fun.
Director Tom DeCherchio seemed capable of pulling off a good basketball movie, and the professionalism of the Nike sketch may reveal something of his past. That aside, discussing the technical and narrative drawbacks of "Celtic Pride" would require far more space than I've been allowed. Suffice it to say that writer Judd Apatow's script, one which couldn't have been less inherently humorless, just shouldn't have been put on film.
Writing criticism like this about Dan Aykroyd and Damon Wayans, two comics I particularly enjoy, makes me feel a little guilty about being so hard on "Celtic Pride." But these two let me down by selling themselves short in a project like this (or like "Major Payne" or "Sgt. Bilko"-- all pretty much interchangeable). Elwood Blues and Homey the Clown wouldn't be happy. Sadly, I can't think of what these fine performers can do to help their careers. Like Steve Martin and Eddie Murphy, they have compromised for far too long.
If I can lend you some advice about comedy, it's this: go to your local video store, bring home a tape you know will be good, and settle down to a night full of laughs. They're what "Celtic Pride" lacks--the three or four chuckles that do arise just make you want to run out and see "Down Periscope" a few more times. With movies like this being made right and left, even "Showgirls" is beginning to look like quality entertainment. Sad.