‘The Express’

It's only a game. Except when it's not.

It wasn't to Jackie Robinson, who broke through Major League Baseball's color barrier as a Brooklyn Dodgers star.

And it wasn't to Ernie Davis, who followed future NFL great Jim Brown to Syracuse University -- and, in 1961, became the first black player to win college football's Heisman Trophy.

Davis may be the title character in "The Express," the latest in a seemingly unending string of stand-up-and-cheer sports biographies. Yet he's hardly the most interesting character.

That honor goes to the dependable Dennis Quaid, who's starred in a few football dramas of his own, from "Everybody's All-American" to "Any Given Sunday."

This time, however, Quaid doesn't have to suit up; cast as Syracuse head coach Ben Schwartzwalder, Quaid ably conveys the consciousness-raising (and conscience) of a white coach forced to confront racism -- whether he likes it or not.

Sometimes, he doesn't like it at all.

A product of his times, and a West Virginia upbringing, Schwartzwalder embodies the deeply ingrained racism that characterized American society in the late 1950s and early '60s.

But if Schwartzwalder cares about anything, it's what happens on the football field. And with Jim Brown about to leave Syracuse for the NFL, he needs a new star running back.

Enter Ernie Davis ("Finding Forrester's" Rob Brown), a small-town New York standout a sportswriter has dubbed the "Elmira Express."

Partially raised by his Bible-reading coal miner grandfather (the always wonderful Charles S. Dutton), Ernie's a standout on the football field, just like Brown.

Unlike his sometimes surly predecessor, however, Ernie's a more saintly soul whose dedication and decency shine through, even when confronted by racism inside his own locker room.

But he's not blind to the changing times -- or afraid to confront others' prejudices, even if it means overruling Coach Schwartzwalder's don't-rock-the-boat rules.

His teammates may be willing to overlook his minority status, but some of Syracuse's opponents -- and their fans -- register their disapproval of integration on the football field by raining racial epithets, refuse, even glass bottles down on the players' heads. (No wonder Schwartzwalder instructs them to keep their helmets on during a visit to his home state of West Virginia.)

And by the time of the 1960 Cotton Bowl in Dallas, the stage is set for an epic clash -- in more ways than one -- as a full-scale brawl breaks out between the Syracuse and University of Texas teams.

Director Gary Fleder ("Runaway Jury," "Don't Say a Word") stages these confrontations with unflinching directness, vividly re-creating a time when America's racial divide was not only out in the open but perfectly acceptable to plenty of folks who considered themselves upstanding, patriotic citizens.

Those vivid sequences give "The Express" an undeniable edge the movie otherwise lacks.

Most of the time, "The Express" follows the heart-tugging Hollywood playbook, as screenwriter Charles Leavitt ("Blood Diamond") softens the sharpness with rueful humor.

Much of the latter comes courtesy of Omar Benson Miller ("Miracle at St. Anna"), who's an ebullient hoot as Ernie's tons-of-fun teammate Jack Buckley. (Clancy Brown, as Schwartzwalder's assistant coach, also scores his share of deadpan zingers.)

Rob Brown, who played football at Amherst, has the grace and presence to convincingly portray an all-American athlete. More importantly, he manages to make Ernie's inherent goodness inspirational rather than cloying and annoying. It's not as easy as it looks.

Neither, of course, is capturing the inner conflict of a football coach who's always in command -- or thinks he has to be that way to his players, if not to himself.

And while the role of the crusty coach who begrudgingly sees the light is hardly a stretch for the versatile Quaid, his ability to reveal a glimpse of tenderness beneath the gruff exterior transcends the personal, transforming "The Express " into a story about winning -- off the football field as well as on.

Contact movie critic Carol Cling at ccling@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0272.