The cusp of the 1980s was a horrible time. Afghanistan was a lawless battleground and Islamic fundamentalists were terrorizing U.S. citizens. Oh, right. Anyway, the Winter Olympics were being held in Lake Placid, N.Y., and the U.S. hockey team, filled with players from different colleges around the country (professional "dream teams," stacked with ringers, were not allowed at this time) didn't have much of a chance against the heavily favored Russians, who had skated together as a team for years. However, Herb Brooks (Kurt Russell), the U.S. team's manipulative, dictatorial coach, had a plan and a deep-seated desire to win, since he had been scrubbed from the Olympic hockey team years before. So there's no sex, irony, exploding rocket ships, or computer stuff, and if you don't dig things sportif, you might not really give a fuck who wins the hockey game, but the period-piece pop-culture artifacts/elements and heavy Massachusetts accents on some of the hawkee playahs are interesting, Mr. Russell is entertainingly awkward as the wired-too-tight Brooks, and the photography of the big game almost makes you think you don't know what's going to happen.