When did Oliver Stone lose his mind? Really, when was it? Was it during JFK, or was he always crazy? I'd like to blame Costner, he should be blamed for many things, but I can't hold him responsible for Oliver Stone's body of work. And I must admit that I have never been a big fan of Ollie, but in recent years I actually think he might have slipped over the edge. 1999's Any Given Sunday certainly doesn't do anything to dispel that notion.

Let's start with the premise, shall we? A football team, the Miami Sharks, are in disarray. The former owner has died and left control to his young daughter, the coach is old school and can't relate to his new generation of players, and he loses two quarterbacks on two successive plays. He's got old players who are in danger of being permanently crippled if they continue to play, an unscrupulous doctor, prima donnas threatening to usurp the coach's authority and selfish stars who only want their bonuses. Sound familiar? It should. This movie falls somewhere between Jerry Maguire and North Dallas Forty, but doesn't approach either in quality. And yet the storyline isn't the movie's downfall.

And how can it be? For the first half (and an extremely long half it is as the movie clocks in at two hours and thirty five minutes) this is not so much a movie as a sports music video. Every attempt has been made to make the movie enticing through the soundtrack. I can't even get down on the script as there is so little dialogue. But even this is not really the movie's downfall.

Let's get down to where Stone has really lost it; casting. Now he's always had this problem, just look at the fact that he cast Charlie Sheen as the star of both Platoon and Wall Street, but here he seems to have gone out of his way to screw things up. The old coach (Tony D'Amato) is played by Al Pacino. Is anybody buying this guy as a coach of a professional football team let alone a former player? Then we have Dennis Quaid playing the star quarterback, Jack 'Cap' Rooney. Right. I don't believe the NFL has a senior league. Jaime Foxx plays Willie Beamen, the replacement quarterback...of pee wee football maybe. Then there's Cameron Diaz as Christina Pagniacci, the new owner and GM. Ah, hah, hah! Who is buying this? The only casting he gets right is Ann-Margret as Margaret Pagniacci, Cameron's boozehound mother. I'll also give a nod to Elizabeth Berkley who has found her niche as a high class hooker showing off some tasty ta-tas. But there's not even enough of that, just two lonely pairs of breasts and one big black locker room cock.

But does that prove that he's lost his mind? Perhaps not. How about a player who loses his eyeball on the field? He doesn't just get poked in the eye, it's actually ripped out of the socket and rolling around out on the field, roots and all. Still no? How about opponents with such lame names as the Americans, Rhinos, Knights and Crusaders? Need more? How about trotting Charlton Heston out as the football Commissioner? You're still not convinced that Stone has lost it? I think that should be enough, but there's something so much lamer going on here. Oliver Stone is actually trying to teach us something with this movie through the metaphor of Gladiators. Yes my friends, Gladiators. There are references all over the place including lengthy scenes from that old chestnut, Ben Hur.

Amazingly bad movie, but don't walk away as the credits are rolling or you will miss an entire scene. Not bloopers, not a little comic scene, an entire scene with exposition and plot points and everything. And gosh darn it, you just might miss some important lesson from Oliver.

Hamlin Grade: 1.5

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