Breaking Down a Miracle on Ice Movie: A Musical and Pictorial Odyssey through Europe

Now that Herb’s rattled a can under important people’s noses to fundraise pennies for his boys, the scene shifts to an airport. Inside one of the planes, Coach Patrick is shouting at the team to settle down because he wants to take a headcount, just as if this were an elementary school field trip.

After boarding the plane and flirting with a stewardess, OC (whose arrival proves that Coach Patrick should have waited until the final boarding call to begin his headcount) calls out to Coach Patrick that there’s a reporter outside wanting to interview Jimmy.

Leaning over Rizzo’s seat, Coach Patrick asks if Mike’s heard from Jimmy and Rizzo replies that he hasn’t, but he supposes that Jimmy’s going to show. This is a really weird conversation, to be honest. Shouldn’t Coach Patrick, who presumably booked the plane tickets, have the best idea of who is coming on the trip? Why would you buy planes tickets without being certain of how many people are going, and how do you, if you are in a position of authority on a journey, board a plane without a complete tally of how many members are in your group? Also, why even attempt a headcount if you aren’t sure how many heads you are supposed to be counting? Is it just to soothe pre-flight nerves or something? At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if this travel scenario ended as well as wrong way one during the cross-country trip in Dumb and Dumber did:

Craning his head to address OC, Coach Patrick instructs OC to just tell the reporter that Herb doesn’t allow interviews. This is a good piece of characterization since Herb’s hostile attitude toward interaction with the media was very reminiscent of Tortorella:

Showing how different plane security was back then, OC just gets off the plane to pass this message along to the reporter, whereas now he wouldn’t be allowed to just turn around and get off the plane, and the reporter wouldn’t have been allowed near the runway without a boarding pass.

A moment later, Jim bounds onto the plane and is greeted with a lot of playful swats from his teammates because:

As he takes his seat, Jim comments, “You guys aren’t going to the hotspots of Europe without me.” Then there is a lot of laughter and corny (and rather inaudible) joking about this statement. After that, while dramatic music swells in the background, the plane takes off, and the team has officially embarked on their European adventure.

The next scene takes place in Amsterdam (which is in the Netherlands for all of those who failed Geography 101), as the boys exit a hotel and board a bus. Still chomping on his ever-present wad of gum, OC saunters up to Pav and announces, “Hey, I’ll do you a favor, I’ll sit with you even though you are from Minneapolis.” I hope Pav responds like that soldier in the Monty Python French Taunter scene, which in my opinion is one of the pinnacles of British comedy:

Pav’s response is almost as epic. He scoots over to steal the seat OC was about to slip into, and when OC appears baffled by this slight, the guy sitting behind Pav (whom I believe is Bah, but can’t be sure since half the characters in this film all look the same and should be forced to wear their numbers and uniforms all the time so they can be distinguished from one another even if that is the dystopian plot of a thousand futuristic novels) taps Pav on the shoulder and informs OC, “What the troubadour is trying to say is he’s not from Minneapolis.”

Spreading his hands, OC says, “Okay, I’m sorry, all right?” After a moment’s hesitation, Pav relents and moves over so OC can join him. Lounging in his chair, OC asks Pav, “So, where’d you say you guys were from—the Iron Range? It’s the same thing as Minneapolis, isn’t it?” Yes, OC, a place with the term Range in it is obviously near the Twin Cities. At this point, I can just see OC thinking this on the bus ride through Europe:

“Sure,” Pav scoffs, not tolerating OC’s Boston ignorance and arrogance, “like South Boston is the same thing as Beacon Hill. You guys are really dumb about the rest of the country, you know that? We’re just as poor as you or Craig, so why don’t you just lay off the upside-down snobbery, huh?” Rock on, Pav. You tell him.

OC exchanges a glance with Rizzo, who is sitting across the aisle from him, and then Coach Patrick climbs into the bus, calling, “Okay, it’s going to be about ten hours before we get there.” When the bus fills with groans, he raises his voice even further: “Listen up, listen up, everybody is responsible for their own equipment just like here. Okay?”

There is a chorus of acknowledgement, and then Rizzo wants to know, “Hey, Patty, do we have to keep on our suit coats and ties or what?”

Coach Patrick tells the guys to get comfortable, and as everybody loosens their ties, he demands cheerfully, “Where’s my seat?”

Some banter ensues, and then OC stands up, telling Coach Patrick that he can take his seat if he doesn’t mind sitting in the kiddie section. Then Rizzo rises and takes OC’s seat, saying, “Take mine, Patty. I got it warm for you.” It’s like musical chairs or a Chinese fire drill.

As he slides into Rizzo’s empty seat, Coach Patrick opines, “You guys never let up, do you?”

Rizzo looks at Pav and remarks, “I guess we’re all a little homesick, huh?” Pav gives a small smile, and then Herb enters the bus, and the atmosphere drops to sub zero temperatures as the bus drives off.

Plucking away at his guitar, Pav serenades us with “The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round” since this is a family friendly film, after all, Just kidding. He really offers a rendition of Simon and Garfunkel’s “America.”

As Pav sings that tune, a montage of various moments from the team’s games in Europe flash across the screen, so I recommend that you hum the tune to yourself as I take you on a meme journey of the European games.

Les Auge gets smashed into the boards and is probably thinking:

Pav gets in a scuffle along the boards to show us all the definition of hockey:

Broten (whose last name is spelled correctly on his jersey) scores a goal, and it’s so awesome:

Christian has a goal, too:

Ramsey uses his backside to send an opponent into a somersault:

Then we’re back on a plane for the flight back home for America, as the whirlwind tour of Europe is done. As Ken returns to his seat, a stewardess asks for his autograph, which he gives to her. There’s whistling and college boy teasing, and then when Ken sits down, Jim asks why the married guys get all the attention. I’m sure their wives would also be interested in that answer. Maybe this isn’t such a family friendly film, after all.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ken answers. “She’ll get to you. They’re all big hockey fans in her country. She wants all the autographs.”

Leaning forward from the row behind Ken, Bill chimes in, “It’s about time we got a little respect.”

“Oh yeah?” Ken replies. “Well, according to her, there’s no way we’re going to beat the Russians.”

Rob, who is sitting next to Ken, shakes his head dismissively, and comments in a very smug tone, “Oh, that comes from living too close to the Soviets. It’s called geopolitical absorption.” Now, that may sound confusing, folks, but just remember, Rob’s only using sophisticated words to dress up a basic fact that everyone except evil egomaniacs like Napoleon and Hitler learned in European history, and those who don’t learn in boring class discover in a very painful practice:

“Geopolitical absorption, Robbie?” echoes OC, and this whole conversation is so hilarious, because these two are bantering about Cold War global politics, which is totally true to both their characters. “That’s the poet in you right?”

“Wrong,” Rob sasses back. “Political Science 401. It’s a fancy word that means being scared of the guy who lives next store.”

“Yeah, well, wait until we get to Lake Placid,” scoffs OC. “We’ll see who absorbs who.” This is all starting to sound very Freudian, but really this geopolitical debate was very amusing in an extremely intellectual way like the constitutional peasant scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail although the script and the acting are obviously inferior by light-years but why quibble over minor details.

There are a lot of grins to go around at this remark, and then Rizzo states as the stewardess starts collecting everyone’s signatures, “What I wouldn’t give to beat them. It sure would make up for a lot.”

As Rizzo gives his autograph to the stewardess, Bill addresses her thus: “Excuse me. I have it on good authority that you want details on our secret plan to beat the Russians.”

“Secret?” repeats the stewardess, following the traditional airline approach of being as rude as possible to the customer. “What is this secret plan? I saw your game last night. You’ll never beat the Soviet Union. Never.”

The secret plan, as devised by Herb, silly stewardess, is to lull the Soviet Union into a false sense of superiority by putting on poor performances like the one in Madison Square Garden before the Olympics, and then just dominating in the medal round.

There’s an awkward silence, and then OC declares, “We’ll see about that.” Then the scene ends by panning out to a shot of the plane soaring through the clouds, and on that note I’ll leave all my lovely readers to fly about their lovely business until the next installment. I hope everyone enjoyed their musical and pictorial trip through Europe. Please take all your belongings out of the overhead compartment before departing the cyberplane.