Their approach virtually dares viewers to be bored with the movie, not that they ever would. The Cosmos' story has all the inherent drama a documentary filmmaker could want, so why the gross attempts to bury this timeless chapter in sports history under a flurry of trendy editing gimmicks? Perhaps they felt the available footage didn't support the story they wanted to tell, forcing them to rely on still photography.

Of course, on screen, the photography is never still. If a picture is worthwhile, then they work it, put the thing down, flip it and reverse it. It's like watching a PC screensaver run amok, although the energized presentation does serve to propel things forward.

There are two other considerations at play here. First, none of the interviews seem to match (some subjects sit on stools in-studio, while others answer questions up in the bleachers, in locker rooms, against random burnt-orange backdrops or riding God-knows-where by personal limo). Second, even with ESPN on their side, they couldn't get Pele, who's working on a film of his own. Pele's biographer makes frequent appearances among the talking heads, but the Cosmos' key player is conspicuously absent.

So, rather than tell things from Pele's point of view, the way most sports movies unfold, Crowder and Dower focus on the corporate side. This is Steve Ross' story. Ross was the Warner Communications exec who gambled everything on establishing soccer as a national sport — and lost. Time has shown his legacy — the United States now competes in the World Cup, and kids across the country now practice the sport — but Ross' financial venture bombed big time.

Earlier this summer, a modest little documentary called Who Killed the Electric Car? recapped America's failed attempt to offer a fuel-saving electric vehicle. Chris Paine, who made that movie, framed the story as a whodunit, transforming a complex political issue into a breezy bit of infotainment. Crowder and Dower might have taken a lesson from him.

Who killed American soccer? Did hothead Giorgio Chinaglia truly have "a malign influence over Steve Ross" or were other personalities to blame? Did ABC fail to understand how to televise the sport? Were audience not ready? The movie offers plenty of finger-pointing, but never in an organized fashion. Perhaps if the filmmakers hadn't been so enamored with their own hyper-stylized presentation, the mystery itself might have been more appealing.

[as featured in The Miami Herald]