(Written by Intern, Miranda Zampogna)
A hymn to America’s heartland, Green and Gold is less a movie than a sermon. Directed by Anders Lindwall, this drama set in the early 90s is inspired by true events. We witness the struggles of a bankrupt dairyman when he stakes a championship bet to preserve his family farm as his granddaughter seeks a fresh start as a musician. This homage to the Green Bay Packers blends farming and football culture, seeking to weave a poignant tale of family, tradition, and the changing face of rural America. Quaint visuals, folk music, and explorations of environmentalism, generational conflict, and community appeal to a rustic charm. Yet, despite this, Green and Gold ultimately falters, bogged down by predictability and a reliance on heavy-handed platitudes.
A crackling radio broadcasting a Green Bay Packers game over a fog-shrouded cow pasture provides a strong opening image. Throughout, the clear cinematic language cultivates a rich palette of greens and yellows, inspired by the Packers’ colors, and the mise-en-scéne punctuates the worn textures of rural life. While the imagery offers a cozy atmosphere, the scenario quickly veers into familiar territory. Actor Craig T. Nelson, cast as a gruff but ultimately well-meaning cattleman, Buck, embodies the central conflict: a clash between tradition and change. Buck, a man deeply rooted in conventional husbandry, clings to outdated tilling methods despite advanced agricultural corporations outstripping him. Meanwhile, his granddaughter, Jenny (Madison Lawlor), is a budding musician, reflecting the changing tides of rural life. Influenced by her free-spirited mother, she yearns for a life beyond the confines of the ranch and the freedom of self-expression.
In exploring the unique divide between a multigenerational family of farmers, this journey leads to a series of predictable encounters, such as heated arguments and preachy monologues. Overarching themes of ambition, community, tradition, and faith are very clearly spelled out by stilted dialogue, laden with heavy-handed pronouncements on the sanctity of the homestead, the importance of family, and the resilience of country folk. A recurring motif of a shotgun blast shattering a street lamp, drawn from a Joni Mitchell lyric, effectively represents the moral dilemma Jenny faces in choosing between her family’s legacy and her aspirations. Ultimately, however, a contrived conclusion leaves this idea feeling inorganic.
The central conflict––a looming foreclosure of the farm––is introduced early on, yet the impact of the bet is moot. Stakes are clearly articulated, but suspense fails to build as the emotional weight of the premise’s wager is never fully explored. Moreover, Buck’s response to the crisis often feels more like stubborn defiance than a genuine grappling with the challenges of modernization, detracting from the underdog narrative we are intended to rally behind. Conflict is laid on thick at the start, contributing to an odd sense of pace, and the arduous setup is atypical of an intimate drama.
Suffering from a lack of focus, the premise of how the story ties into the Packers’ Super Bowl journey and Jenny’s musical aspirations picks up late. Both inconsistent plot lines fail to gel with the overarching conflict of losing the farm. While the Packers’ games provide a unique recurring motif and attempt at an interesting structure—using the countdown to the Super Bowl for suspense—their significance to the plot remains unclear. Moreover, the arbitrary countdown and the Packers’ overall season score have little influence on the characters’ actions, deflating suspense with passivity.
Adding to a sense of nonaction are major turning points not given structural importance and important decisions not being made on screen. The introduction of Billy Reed (Brandon Sklenar), a bigshot musician who represents an alternative path for Jenny, serves more as a plot device taking agency away from a meaningful exploration of Jenny’s internal conflict. Furthermore, ignoring the possibility that Jenny’s musical career could somehow support Buck’s livestock business is puzzling. Emblematic of the protagonist’s inactivity, there is a deus ex-machina to boot.
Attempts at emotional depth often feel forced and contrived. At points, dramatic tension is overpronounced by a grave score. A scene where Jenny uses her music to comfort a distraught farmer feels particularly out of place and emotionally manipulative. What are supposed to be tear-jerker moments when Jenny sings is complimented by dialogue telling us to cry. These somber moments and character crises are shoehorned in to meet the expectations of the genre, rather than add any nuance or emotional weight. When Green and Gold does not attempt to be a tear-jerker but instead resonates with the little guy, that is when dramatic tension is most effective.
We also never see Jenny’s side of forgetting who she is or where she came from, and most of her arguments with Buck do not ring true. Failing to explore the potential fulfillment of Jenny’s dreams weakens the impact of her difficult decision. Additionally, opportunities are handed to Jenny either through coincidence or by other people, while her talent for creating the music she is lauded for or the inspiration to become a musician goes undiscovered. Buck’s ethos lacking any genuine challenges, coupled with his absence of truly harmful actions towards Jenny, undermines the crisis they face in their relationship. Nevertheless, the performances do a fine job of making these characters feel relatable amidst a weak script.
Despite these shortcomings, Green and Gold boasts a strong visual aesthetic. The cinematography is stunning, capturing the beauty of the rural landscape. Another highlight is the production design that effectively creates a lived-in world that feels authentic. Utilizing a soundtrack that features a moving acoustic score, the choice of music effectively complements the on-screen action. In addition, the idyllic tone and mood crafted by director Anders Lindwall create a pleasant cozy ambiance.
Ultimately, Green and Gold falls short of its potential. While touching upon important themes and relevant hardships that make this story feel pertinent, the predictable imaginings and reliance on clichés prevent true emotional resonance. Whether fans outside of a conservative audience, folk music enthusiasts, or those who seek outward wholesomeness will see the charm remains to be seen. However, those pursuing a nuanced and emotionally resonant story may find themselves disappointed. While Green and Gold will not hold a lasting impression this may eventually be a sufficient streamer to watch with the family.
Will Green and Gold fumble the ball? See the play-by-play in theaters Friday, January 31.
Outsiders to Wis and other Midwest small farmers will not appreciate this film. Josh didn’t, unfortunately.