Socialist Sports Movie Review: Air
Air is such a weird idea for a movie. This is the story of how Michael Jordan came to sign his sponsorship deal with Nike in 1984. So it’s a sports movie that’s really about shoes and marketing. Even though Jordan is the central figure of the plot, he never actually appears, except in grainy archival footage or slightly out of the movie’s frame (Damian Delano Young appears as the stand-in for Jordan, but you only ever see the back of his head or his hands holding sneakers).
Plus, this story is pretty well-known: In the early 1980s, basketball shoe sales were dominated by Converse and Adidas. Converse had the majority of the market share and most of the game’s biggest stars (Magic, Bird, Dr. J), while Adidas was the “cool” brand, having cultivated a following among young people, especially in the hip-hop community. Nike was the runt of the litter, until they signed Jordan. And how did they convince Jordan to sign? Simple: They offered him the most money. As Jordan said in The Last Dance, he wanted to go with Adidas, but “Nike made this big pitch and my father said, ‘You’d be a fool not to take this deal, this is the best deal.’” He’s been pretty consistent in this version of the story, even suggesting in another interview that he would have signed with Adidas had they been “anywhere close” to Nike’s offer.
So where exactly is the movie in this story? What is the conflict? Air centers the story around Sonny Vaccaro (played by Matt Damon), the Nike basketball scout who pushed the company to sign Jordan. But even here there’s a problem: Jordan was not exactly a discovery in 1984. In fact, he was one of the most widely known basketball players in the country, having hit the game-winning shot in the NCAA Championship game two years earlier. He was the #3 pick in the NBA Draft. The movie does poke some fun at the idea that “everyone knew” what was coming. Because even if everyone knew about Michael Jordan in 1984, they didn’t yet know he was Michael Jordan, you know?
But neither did Vaccaro. It’s hard to keep track of the number of contingencies required for Jordan to become the cultural icon he ultimately became. They include everything from changes to the NBA’s defensive rules to the opening up of global markets at the end of the Cold War. And yet there’s a silly scene in the movie where Sonny watches Jordan’s big shot over and over again, until something clicks and he is somehow able to foresee Jordan’s entire career. But this is not very credible, and some guy’s supposed ability to see the future is not much to hang a whole movie on.
Given the lack of any real stakes, many people have dismissed Air as little more than a two-hour Nike ad, part of the recent trend of corporate-centric movies that make bringing a product to market seem like the most heroic thing in the world. (Also in that category now are BlackBerry and the Apple series Tetris.) This is a fair criticism, but I often find myself liking these movies, as they tend to depict capitalism’s dark side in an honest way.
For example, if Air is an ad for Nike, it sure makes Phil Knight, the company’s founder and then-CEO, look like an idiot. Played by Ben Affleck in an ugly haircut and ridiculous running outfits, Knight spends the whole movie getting in Vaccaro’s way, unable to grasp Jordan’s brilliance or even see the potential value in basketball shoes. Even once he does get on board with the plan, he doesn’t actually help at all. During the pitch to win Jordan over, he stumbles in to awkwardly announce how important he is and insist on playing some stupid video, before Vaccaro interrupts and saves the day.
It’s noteworthy how the film uses the trappings of a Visionary Boss to undercut Knight’s authority, rather than reinforce it. He walks around the office barefoot (or in the aforementioned ugly running outfits), wears sunglasses indoors, and talks to his employees in stupid aphorisms like, “When you breathe out, simply know you’re breathing out.” He keeps a list of 10 rules on a wall, saying things like “Your job isn’t done until the job is done.” But rather than take this stuff seriously as evidence of his genius, the movie plays it for laughs. In Air, Knight’s employees mock his zen bullshit behind his back, and Vaccaro tells him the 10 rules don’t even make sense.
Of course, all this stuff is just so the movie can create some semblance of an antagonist, with Affleck’s Knight standing in for a corporate bureaucracy (he makes repeated references to “the board” as the reason he can’t do things*). But it’s telling that to do this, Air takes real facts about Phil Knight, stuff that is often framed as the key to his success, and depicts them as the delusions of a narcissist who happens to be in charge. Knight comes off as the forerunner to a million tech bro CEOs who think they reinvented the wheel with advice like, “Remember to breathe.” Whatever value came from Nike in this deal — the foresight to see Jordan’s impact, the design of the shoe, the genius of the marketing — none of it came from the supposedly visionary leader; it all came from employees toiling in dark rooms, while the CEO was out for a run.
*And to a frankly ridiculous degree: In the film, Knight tells Vaccaro he can’t allocate the whole basketball marketing budget to Michael Jordan because “the board” won’t allow it. But in 1984, Nike had revenues of over $900 million, and the amount he’s talking about spending is $250,000 — am I really supposed to believe the board would even notice that?
Which brings us to the climax of the film, which includes perhaps the most anticapitalist scene I’ve ever seen in a sports movie (the other contender being the scene in Major League when the team unites against the owner). In this one, Damon’s Vaccaro gets a call from Jordan’s mother, Deloris (played by Viola Davis), who tells him that Jordan will sign with Nike… on the condition that he receive a percentage of each Air Jordan shoe sold. Initially, Vaccaro balks at the deal, assuming there’s no way Knight will go for it. And then they have this exchange:
Deloris Jordan: He will win championships, multiple championships, Finals MVPs, I know my son. [...] But if he does it, he deserves to be compensated. You eat, we eat – that’s all he’s asking.
Sonny Vaccaro: That’s a fair point, but that’s just not how business works. I mean, they invest the capital and they get the reward and that’s how it goes.
DJ: Maybe that needs to change, because if he does what I think he’s going to do — what you also think he’s going to do — and what Michael KNOWS he’s going to do, then it won’t be the NBA promoting my son, I promise you: It’ll be the other way around. And in that case, he deserves a piece.
SV: Mrs. Jordan, I understand what you’re saying. I actually agree with you… but that’s just not how it goes in this life. People like your son, people who work for a living, they don’t let us own anything. We take the best we can get. And this is a great deal, this is the biggest deal this company has ever offered anyone, by far. Michael could blow out his knee next week.
DJ: Mr. Vaccaro, I agree that the business is unfair. It’s unfair to my son; it’s unfair to people like you. But every once in a while, someone comes along that’s so extraordinary that it forces those reluctant to part with some of that wealth to do so, not out of charity, but out of greed. Because they are so very special. And even more rare: that person demands to be treated according to their worth, because they understand what they are worth.
SV: …or their mother does.
What a brilliant exchange! I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a better case for socialism in a mainstream film. So much about the failures of capitalism is conveyed in these two minutes of screen time; there’s something important in every part. Let’s slow down and go through piece by piece:
…But if he does it, he deserves to be compensated. You eat, we eat – that’s all he’s asking.
…that’s just not how business works. I mean, they invest the capital and they get the reward and that’s how it goes.
On some level, this is the essence of every negotiation between labor and capital. Labor says, “If we do the work, then we ought to share in the reward.” And capital says, “Well, we’d like to keep the money for ourselves and we’re in charge so… No.” It’s a little more complicated than that, but not much. And, crucially, the dominance of capital is not justified by anything other than a Just So story. “That’s just not how business works.” That’s the way it’s always been… But it doesn’t have to be! As Mrs. Jordan says:
Maybe that needs to change, because if he does what I think he’s going to do — what you also think he’s going to do — and what Michael KNOWS he’s going to do, then it won’t be the NBA promoting my son, I promise you: It’ll be the other way around. And in that case, he deserves a piece.
This is the part that gets Jordan-specific. Because, remember, the movie’s plot is built on Vaccaro’s belief in Jordan. He says multiple times that, as great as the Air Jordan product is, “a shoe is just a shoe until the right person steps in it.” And if that’s true, if the value of the shoe comes from what Jordan does on the court more than any technological or marketing innovation provided by Nike, then labor is creating the value, and capital knows that, and it’s only their position of power that allows them to take all the money. In other words, private ownership of the means of production allows a capitalist class to exploit the worker. Who could argue with Jordan’s mom?
Mrs. Jordan, I understand what you’re saying. I actually agree with you… but that’s just not how it goes in this life. People like your son, people who work for a living, they don’t let us own anything. We take the best we can get.
What I love about this part, in addition to reiterating the Just So nature of capitalism, is how it defines “working class” in a way that is both intuitive and fundamentally correct: “People who work for a living.” That is, as opposed to people who go for runs and recite weird koans about breathing.
The distinction is NOT, as I have written over and over again in this newsletter, between rich and poor. Before Jordan even signs this deal, he’s already rich, but he’s still a worker, just like Vaccaro. “People like your son, people who for a living, they don’t let us own anything.” Vaccaro and Jordan may not be in the same realm when it comes to wealth, but they both have the same relationship to the means of production — they both work for a living — and so they are both in the same class.
But, tellingly, Vaccaro’s resigned attitude is more typical. “We take the best we can get.” Indeed, as Sonny says, what Jordan is being offered is pretty good: the biggest endorsement deal ever offered to a basketball player! And it’s tempting for workers to compare themselves to other members of their class and say, “hey, all things considered, I have it pretty good.” After all, they don’t let us own anything so we should be happy with a high paycheck. What else can we expect?
Mr. Vaccaro, I agree that the business is unfair. It’s unfair to my son; it’s unfair to people like you. But every once in a while, someone comes along that’s so extraordinary that it forces those reluctant to part with some of that wealth to do so, not out of charity, but out of greed. Because they are so very special. And even more rare: that person demands to be treated according to their worth, because they understand what they are worth.
This is a climax both beautiful and tragic. It’s beautiful because it’s a mother recognizing and standing up for the value of her son. But it’s tragic because, even though she recognizes that the system is unfair to all workers, both Michael and Sonny, her solution is only good enough for one of them. If it’s only people who “are so very special” who can demand fair treatment, then people like Vaccaro have no hope.
Indeed, Sonny has so internalized this hopelessness that he assumes Jordan’s request is a non-starter. But when he resignedly tells Knight about the demand, the CEO just shrugs and says, “Do it.” Because a single exceptional athlete getting a piece of the pie is no real threat to the capitalist class. It’s telling that this whole scene is part of the movie’s creative license; nothing like this negotiation ever happened. Part of WHY Nike’s offer was so much better than the other shoe companies was that it always included a share of the revenues for Jordan (although it is true that the company significantly underestimated what this share would be worth). Capitalists don’t actually mind granting equity shares and revenue rights to select workers who are so very special. It’s actually good for capitalism’s brand to let a new face succeed every once in a while.
The real threat comes in the second part Mrs. Jordan’s speech, the part about demanding to be treated according to your worth. That part is not necessarily limited to people who are so very special; it is up to all workers. But it requires workers to act together as a class. Vaccaro gets tantalizingly close in this scene, in recognizing the common lot of “people who work for a living.” But he can’t quite get to the next step, to not simply “take the best we can get” but to demand what workers are entitled to by virtue of the value they create.
I doubt the makers of Air set out to make socialist agitprop, but often these pro-business, corporate propaganda movies end up drifting in that direction. In order to tell a business story, you have to be a little bit honest about how business works. And whenever you look closely at capitalism, you see how ugly it really is.