I’m a chick, but I have seen many a dude movies. And, from my observation, a fair share of dude movies are of the sports variety.
Whether these flicks are about a famous athlete or a sporting event or a tragedy, all sports movies seem to have one thing in common — the tunnel scene.
It’s the pinnacle of this brand of movies’ greatness. The camera follows in slow motion every move of a diminutive football player who never gave up and now finds himself on the brink of taking the field that had so long eluded him. (If you’re thinking I ripped that plot off of “Rudy,” you’re right.) From the dark depths of the tunnel to the blinding lights of the stadium, Hollywood just can’t seem to avoid this cliche. And you know you just eat that stuff up, fellas.
I never quite understood the appeal of this scene. Maybe it’s because I never played football and thus never experienced the rush out onto the field. But, this week, I did have my very own tunnel scene experience. And I can safely say I get it now.
I’m performing in next weekend’s Civic Players of Logansport’s production of “Stage Door.” We’ve been in rehearsals for months now. The thing is, though, we rehearse in the Civic’s building on Erie Avenue. It’s a small, cramped space.
Because the space is so small, it throws some things off. In saying a line while walking off stage, we actors found we were off stage long before the line was finished.
As we heard so many times in rehearsals when certain scene weren’t working, “It’ll make sense at McHale.”
But like some many things that seem they’re never going to arrive, move-in day was upon us before we knew it.