I saw this film in its first release, then again a few nights ago on cable and it affirmed my first impression that this was one of a scant handful of good sports movies. The shots of San Louis Obispo are evocative, for one thing, giving us not just the apricot sand of the dunes but the whoosh of cars on a distant freeway and the chill of the light fog.
Mariel Hemingway, never noted for her acting range, becomes noticeably stronger as the movie progresses. The attractions and tensions within the team are neatly delineated in a naturalistic style by director Towne. What seems bothersome to many commentators is the "exploitation" of females through gratuitous nudity and all the rest of that specious argument. Of course there is female nudity and an abundance of finely toned suntanned flesh, often moving around ballistically in slow motion. It is after all a movie about a team of women athletes. And contrary to popular belief there doesn't seem to be a vas deferens between male and female competitors. And we should consult Leni Riefenstal on how to avoid slow motion. Much of the nudity is locker-room casual. (And there is casual male nudity too.) That which has sexual associations seems appropriate in a story of a love affair between team members and contributes to our understanding of how such an affair could develop.
The guy, by the way, is no eleventh-hour hero brought in at the last minute to save the heroine from the catastrophe of lesbianism. He's no dashing Rhett Butler. He's simply another figure, not overly bright, and manipulable. He and the heroine don't ride into the sunset together.
The complaints about exploitation seem misdirected. This is a film for adults, a story of love, dedication, and competition, nicely written, directed, photographed, scored, and acted. Zealots in the gay community have an abundance of other targets for their anger. It would have been nice to see more of Patrice Donnely in other films, because she was quite good, especially for an ex-athlete.
