*this article originally featured in Libero Magazine Issue #2
Football is – at its essence – pure cinema. The glory, the drama, the pain. The football pitch is where heroes are made and dreams are realised in the most dramatic and exciting of ways.
A good football film, however, is harder to come by. There are the usual classics of the genre; Bend It Like Beckham empowered a generation of young women to take up the beautiful game. The Damned Utd provided us with one of the richest character studies in recent UK cinema. And of course, Escape to Victory is the now traditionally accepted way of filling Boxing Day silences long after all avenues of familial conversation have been exhausted. Alongside these classics, there are the outliers. The underrated heroes. Leading this side onto the field, Michael Corrente’s 2002 film A Shot at Glory.
As we approach the 20th anniversary of its release, lets rejoice in the chaos of one of the most iconic football films ever committed to celluloid.
Let’s just get one thing out the way: I love this film. It speaks to a turn of the century era of Scottish football that fills me with the warm nostalgia only football can. The kits, the boots, the players; it’s everything.
Directed by Corrente and written by Denis O’Neill, A Shot at Glory stars Academy Award winner Robert Duvall (seriously) and Oscar nominee Michael Keaton (again, seriously). The undoubted star turn of the piece, however, comes from two-time Golden Shoe winner and all-round legend Ally McCoist.
Like the previously mentioned Damned Utd, A Shot at Glory is very much a character study. However, it could be argued that the characters at hand all believe themselves to be in very different studies.
Duvall, who co-produced the film, plays Gordon McLeod – manager of Scottish Second Division side Kilnockie FC. Donning a tartan flatcap and an accent that comes and goes like the tide of his team’s eponymous hometown – McLeod has devoted his life to football. The future of his beloved Kilnockie comes under threat when new American owner Peter Cameron (Keaton) details plans to move the club to Dublin. Keaton’s role in the film is very much one of cracking wise and snapping gum - his flash American over-the-top dreamer standing in stark contrast to his parochial Scottish surroundings. Tensions rise further when, against McLeod’s wishes, Cameron signs former Celtic superstar Jackie McQuillen (played by Rangers legend McCoist, a wink to audiences executed with such ferocity that it nearly caused my television screen to crack), whose lifestyle of excess has cost him his career, his respect, and his relationship with wife Kate (Kirsty Mitchell) – who also happens to be McLeod’s daughter.
McLeod and Cameron set out their mission statements in their opening scene with a delightful expositional abandon as McLeod drawls “He (McQuillen)’s a fucking headcase, a waster” to which an excitable Cameron replies – with zero syllables - “donchawannawinnacup?!?”
If you’ll allow me my best attempt at an Ally McCoist impression, “let me tell you by the way, the stakes could not be higher”.
One tricky balance films set around the game have struggled to parse in the past is that between getting actors to play football, and getting footballers to act. This is an area, however, where A Shot at Glory absolutely strikes gold. The overwhelming majority of this gold is woven by McCoist, who oozes pure charisma from start to finish. Initially, Gladiator actor Russell Crowe was set to play the role of Jackie McQuillan before a meeting between Duvall and McCoist convinced the Godfather man that the part belonged to Super Ally and Super Ally alone. In fact, when discussing the casting of McCoist, Duvall was famously quoted as saying “Lawrence Olivier could never kick a ball, but McCoist is a very natural actor”. High praise indeed.
Additionally, the Kilnockie FC squad is comprised of Raith Rovers and Airdrionians players, which lends the footballing sequences in the film a level of authenticity rarely seen in the genre, with Mark Knopfler’s score adding an evocative weight to every scene.
The Kilnockie stands are populated with the exact type of characters familiar to anyone who has ever attended a lower league game. There is the man who refuses to watch a single moment of the games out of fear, much to the annoyance of his friend. There is the confounding scene of a person in full fish costume, flanked at all times by a bagpiper. Now, the cynic in me wants to share the story of the time I saw a 7-year-old child get hit with a flying pie for repeatedly sounding a rattle Scottish First Division tie between St Mirren and Falkirk in 1999. None of this Kilnockie style whimsy would fly in the real world. The charm of this film, however, lies in its ability to strip away that cynicism of its viewers. So much so, in fact, I defy anyone not to find themselves in the grip of Scottish Cup fever as Kilnockie’s excellent run sees them drawn against the indomitable Glasgow Rangers in the final of the competition. A Rangers side, no less, managed by McLeod’s career-long foe Martin Smith (Brian Cox channeling ex-Gers manager Walter Smith through his portrayal of Hannibal Lector in Manhunter).
Subsequent cup heroics from the likes of Gretna and Queen of the South have given the ending of A Shot at Glory (no spoilers, seek this film out immediately) a real legitimacy and weight. The film stands as a totem of everything fans of the Scottish game know and love. We love it for the characters. We relish in the unintentional comedy. We recognise the heavy-handed attempts at solving the sectarian divide- “Celtic man” Jackie McQuillan repeatedly punching a Rangers fan in the head while screaming “it’s just a game, it’s just a fucking game” may be the most frustratingly accurate distillation of Glaswegians ever.
Ultimately though, the reason we love this film is the belief that no matter how small, how ridiculous, one day we all might experience our Shot at Glory.
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