In a season where films about investigation and corruption are rife, Concussion should have been Oscar bait. It ought to have been gripping, and infuriating, and a call to arms against the way American football is treated and played in the United States – a battle cry against a sport whose commercial ties to American culture are so deep that it literally sacrifices lives in order to retain its power. It should have been brilliant.
It instead settles for being “an important film”, with all the dull and didactic qualities that implies.
Will Smith stars as Dr. Bennet Omalua, a Nigerian-American who examined the brains of several former Steelers players who suffered depression, hallucinations, violent outbursts and memory loss, and eventually suicide. Omalu discovered that repeated head trauma caused by football caused chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), which has symptoms like Alzheimer’s Disease. His research, however, which threatens the NFL – an organisation who “own a day of the week; the same day the Church used to own” – is met with resistance, denial and threats.
Smith is understated but determined as the gentle Omalu, though he, like the film, tends to issue saintly suggestions when he should be screaming. The respectability of the doctor, from his prayer-like incantations before each autopsy to his formal courtship of fellow immigrant Prema (the wonderful Gugu Mbatha-Raw), feels stuffy. Also, this failing is excacerbated by the film’s structure. Omalu’s conflict between wanting to assimilate into America and threatening a heralded institution is repeatedly explained, but is never satisfactorily explained onscreen.
What do you get at the end? A film that’s sedate when it should be rousing; platitudinous when it should be passionate.

In Cinemas February 12th

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