With the world the way it is, there has been one silver lining over the past few weeks. For me personally, the news that the NBA was going to come back to finish out the 2019-2020 season, I began to get excited. It may not be exactly how I remembered it, but I began to have all of those thoughts in my head of how things could go. I also feared what might not happen, as a journey to Orlando, FL would result in its own host of health problems. Things have the chance to go completely wrong and it became clear that while I’m living for the best of circumstances at the end of the month, I also have to realize the potential for cancellation, or players dropping out for various concerns.
I personally don’t blame them. There are days where I personally don’t want to go outside and deal with people because of how COVID-19 has changed us all. With that said, I found myself on July 1 looking for a movie to watch. Among the titles I found was Lenny Cooke (2013), a documentary from Josh and Benny Safdie, now available on The Criterion Channel. The reason that I saw it as symbolism was because July 1, at least from the NBA’s perspective, was the final day to drop out from the upcoming season. Whatever happened after that day would be left up to chance.
Though, if I need to be totally honest, I just wanted to watch a basketball documentary because, frankly, it’s one of the only things keeping me sane right now.
If you don’t know The Safdie Brothers, then clearly you aren’t friends with people on Film Twitter. You’d think that they were revolutionizing cinema with how much praise is heaped upon them for using D.I.Y. techniques, not unlike William Friedkin in the 1970s, where everything has a dash of realism and masculine brutality to everything. These are crime dramas of people who are barely evading capture, and I will join the masses who say that they make some of the tensest, most nail-biting dramas of the past few years. Even if they’re not totally original, they’re innovative and stand out in a crowded market.
You can tell that you’re watching a Safdie Brothers production. It’s practically bathed in acid, falling apart as characters wander around the busy streets. I’m personally of the mindset that Uncut Gems (2019) is a masterpiece, capable of shooting adrenaline straight into your heart and giving Adam Sandler his best performance, likely ever. They tap into similar neuroses and the way that the film’s tone is this hallucinatory collage of madness and danger draws you in. After two equally brilliant films with Heaven Knows What (2014) and Good Time (2017), it feels like Uncut Gems is their ascension into a higher class.
With that said, Uncut Gems can’t prepare you for Lenny Cooke. Their filmography exists largely inside fiction, save for this documentary. It made me curious to understand just what made them feel the need to take this on. In some respects, their latest film’s tie to the NBA (including a great supporting performance by Kevin Garnett) should make it seem obvious. However, where Sandler plays an insufferable jerk, Lenny Cooke’s downward spiral is a more sympathetic and tragic story, in large part because it’s a true story – and one that becomes sadder when you realize who Lenny Cooke is playing second fiddle to.
When starting this story, it’s important to look at Cooke from where he was as a teenager. Wearing a jacket primed with patches for every major NBA team, which presumably would draft him in the near future, he talks about how he’s going to live large, make a difference, and become this superstar. It’s the naïve dream we all have when we’re young and think that the world is easy to manipulate. Of course, it should be noted that Cooke wasn’t just out there bragging. He was a legitimate talent waiting to be discovered.
In the first act of the film, we’re going through a story that builds up our hope. Every piece of footage that The Safdie Brothers pick creates this meticulous look at being a prospect. We are awed as Cooke hits the court, able to spin around and make those trick shots with the best of them. Considering that this is a period that wades in the shadow of figures like Kobe Bryant and Vince Carter jumping to the big leagues out of high school, it’s a dream that suddenly feels more plausible. They’re going to get that diploma, and then the next week be on the bus to a training facility. You’re invested in Cooke’s success because, as we clearly see, he’s more than his word. The whole town believes in this kid.
It would be one thing if this was a story about a small-town kid who failed. The idea of never being in a major market is a sad fate that hits a lot of people. In reality, Cooke was a wunderkind who was compared to LeBron James and Carmello Anthony. That’s not just because they were at their promising beginnings, waiting to start legacies that continue to this day. It was because we get to see Cooke play James, and it’s amazing to see them as adequate opponents. While we know James is great, to have this potential threat makes you believe that there could be somebody greater…
There is a reason that James and Anthony are likely to be seen on TV in a few weeks and Cooke isn’t. They had a work ethic that can easily be mocked, but Cooke is the antithesis to this, serving as the cautionary tale who didn’t have a work ethic. When he got power, he used it like most teenagers would. He lived like there was no tomorrow, and he ignored any cautionary story told by the coaches warning players of their potential futures. Cooke, in some respects, was too much of a loose cannon because he believed that his chances were secured.
Thanks to archival footage by Adam Shopkorn, the story ahead is one that grows sad. I don’t know how this will play in a decade or more when James and Anthony are retired and not prominent figures still in the game. I’m sure every year that they keep going weighs a little bit on Cooke, whose trajectory was far less successful. He didn’t make The NBA Draft. He didn’t go to college and keep things going. As a result, he played for various subpar leagues overseas for a few years, mostly being seen as a has-been because, well, he clearly was losing his chance at being a big player. By the time he returned home, he was just as lost as he was before he was a prospect.
I suppose this documentary hit me with incredible force because of how perfect its cautionary tale ends up being. It’s one of those cases where Shopkorn could never guess that this kid would fail, stuck in menial positions while his contemporaries became NBA Champions. There was no escaping this. Given that James has often been compared to greats like Bryant and Michael Jordan, it must sting a little more to be turning 30 and not reaching that same potential. You used to be able to beat James at a game of one on one, and now you’re irrelevant.
While I love what EPSN does with 30 for 30, I don’t think they could ever give a subject this brutal a platform. They would have to frame it with talking heads and this underlying sense that Cooke was a fallen hero. If anything, he is a modern Icarus. He flew close to the sun and found pleasure over practice to be more rewarding. To have it all come crashing before he reached 21 was even more tragic, especially as the years tick on and the potential to transition to the NBA fades. Sure he got to do what he loves, but… he used to beat James. There’s no forced narrative on Lenny Cooke. This is as real as your D.A. Pennebaker and Maysel Brothers productions. All we have is Cooke and his friends telling stories and we have to interpret the words for himself.
I find that the portion following his 30th birthday party to be one of the most painful examples of documentaries that I’ve seen in a while. As he is surrounded by friends, he sings a Mario song. The joy is surface-level. As the camera lingers onto Cooke’s face, you see tears down his eyes. There’s a revelation in this look that tells you how much regret he carries in having little to show for himself. As The Safdie Brothers put it, he was about to experience a quarter-life crisis despite having lived enough for several lives.
Watching Cooke do everything to pull himself out of the past becomes its own interesting view of therapy. One can imagine that if the cameras weren’t rolling, he would probably be stuck on the couch, worse off and stuck in a crippling depression. As it stands, he’s way too nostalgic, stuck in those memories of where he was and could’ve been. He’s the cliché version of the guy whose best years were in high school, constantly wanting to remind you of who he was instead of what he’s done recently. Those tears on his face are much more powerful than any one piece of dialogue, and it’s interesting to see this whole project as much a study on Cooke’s demise as it is documentaries as a therapeutic tool.
The camera practically makes him need to better himself. He can’t let this narrative end with such a downer. As we continue, we get looks into his most vulnerable moments. You’re surprised that anyone was allowed to film these moments because they’re done in spontaneity, where a friendly conversation about nothing leads to a verbal assault about Cooke’s past. At every turn it’s reflections of a man returning from rock bottom, with the finale being both an optimistic payoff as well as one with a painful irony that had what happened next happened in the early 2000s, maybe Cooke would have had time to turn things around.
In 2005 (when he would’ve been 23), The NBA ruled that prospects could no longer be drafted out of high school. While it lead to some of our greatest players, it lead to other cautionary stories like Cooke. Had he fought that little bit harder, maybe he would be one of the modern greats. Things, thankfully, didn’t go entirely wrong for him in the decades since. It’s true that he isn’t where he wants to be, but this is a story of being humbled, realizing that you’ve made a mistake. The documentary ends with Cooke talking to young players, motivating them to stay focus so that they can reach their potential. It’s an endearing and all-out positive way to end the story, especially as we hope these kids he’s talking to take his advice to heart.
If I’m being honest, Lenny Cooke is a distinctly American story that will always exist. As much as we want to create a greater system to keep these downfalls from happening, it will show up in some form. Maybe we’re not basketball greats. Maybe we’re just in the wrong place and don’t get the promotion we need. It’s a land of competition, and Cooke was too young to know the proper way to strategize. If you take anything from this story, it’s that no matter what happens, learn from your faults, and don’t let your failures hold you back. Find ways to move on and enjoy life, because it’s the most beautiful and fragile thing we have.
This is The Safdie Brothers’ best work. It’s the type of thing that makes me wish that they had more of a passion for documentary filmmaking because as much as they borrow technique from the masters like Martin Scorsese, they also have a knack for Pennebaker and Maysles. They have gotten to the heart of their subject with such clarity and made Cooke a sympathetic and human figure, someone who is both greater than us and somehow one of us at the same time.
There are few narratives that could work as perfectly as this, because LeBron James was a rare next-level talent from the get-go. Having a parallel this rich makes this more than a real-life version of He Got Game (1998). It has much more to say than the NBA drafting system. It’s about the humanity of the loser, someone who will never make it. You are captivated because of how much could’ve been different had only one thing been different. If he had made it, maybe things would be different. Or maybe not. I don’t know.
It’s especially touching to watch in relation to the upcoming NBA Draft, where the new class will join. While I don’t know any of them, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to point to the names who didn’t make the cut and find the underrated greats. Cooke was on that list for a time, and I hope that nobody who’s on it right now will have nearly as rough of a road as he does. I wish you luck in your career, and I hope you’ve taken his advice to heart. It’s an inspiring one, I’ll tell you that.
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