Why is it worth seeing?
For Last Dance, as usual, Jordan’s timing is perfect (this footage has sat in the can since at least 1997, awaiting his approval along with subsequent interviews). Jordan’s been retired as a player for almost 2 decades (longer, if like most people, you completely ignore Jordan’s Washington Wizards' tenure), and with talk abuzz about how LeBron James is the greatest NBA player ever, along comes a series to show why Jordan was the greatest to ever lace up his (sponsored) sneakers. It couldn’t come at a more robust time- not only a good of a time as any to remind people of his legend, but with the NBA season suspended due to Covid-19 concerns, the NBA has a gap in content via the very playoffs that Jordan once dominated so thoroughly.
Hehir intriguingly starts the series out at the beginning of the 1997-1998 NBA season, where the Chicago Bulls, lead by perpetual MVP candidate Jordan, hyper capable second banana Scottie Pippen, and manic personality Dennis Rodman, are dealing with the fall out from General Manager, Jerry Krause’s declaring that regardless of the team’s outcome for that year, head coach Phil Jackson would not be re-signed to the team the following year- leading Jackson to call the season their, “Last Dance”. The circumstances at the time were that the Bulls had just won 2 consecutive championships, and in 5 of the last 7 years- and they again were favoured to win it all that year, rendering Krause’s decision making to be questionable. While moving forwards through that last turbulent season of their championship run, Hehir simultaneously rewinds to show how the Chicago Bulls became one of the most successful dynasties in sports history, and how their lynchpin Michael Jordan became the most successful athlete of all time.
Previous documentaries on Jordan, such as 1993’s Air Time, 1990’s Playground (made by a guy named Zach Snyder), and 1989’s Come Fly With Me, were glorified puff pieces (not to mention 1996’s Space Jam) sponsored by the NBA (and Jordan himself) to build the mythos of their, and corporate America’s, favourite cash cow. A basketball fan, wanting to become more closely acquainted with Jordan’s considerable star power, wouldn’t be disappointed by footage of the spectacular athlete, but would be told the same story every time- that after being cut from his high school basketball team (which Last Dance exposes as not being actually true), Jordan turned himself into essentially a hyper competitive martian from outer space who could dunk from half court, and simultaneously being a corporate spokesperson that could never make middle class white America feel threatened- while never actually getting to know the human being. That’s the near miracle of Last Dance, a Jordan approved product, that not only assembles interviews with Jordan and peers/NBA personnel, jaw dropping game footage set to eclectic and bold music tracks, and parlays through back rooms and gyms not seen before- it’s that it exposes Jordan’s more human side.
For reasons both obvious and known only to him, Jordan has rarely allowed the curtain to be pulled back on his carefully created mystique (Even more allegedly personal work, such as 1993’s Rare Air: Michael on Michael, are closer to publicity stunt than they are to an actual personal revealing). As pointed out in Episode 5, Jordan rarely, if ever, used his cultural power to speak out on politically charged issues, summing up his philosophical approach as, “Republicans buy shoes too”. That same episode shows how Jordan became a victim of his own success, and was alienated by his boundless fame. While the media loved to hound him ceaselessly, and mocked him for attempting to audition to play for a major league baseball team, Jordan never strayed from the script, maintaining that he was a basketball player, first and foremost, a cyborg on the court, and cipher off of it. Just ask writer David Halberstam, whom in the late 90’s tried to write about Jordan’s life (1998’s Playing for Keeps: Michael Jordan and the World He Made) through an insider’s view, who was told yes, and then was told no, resulting in one of the stranger write arounds in memory, an alleged insider sports book about a guy who didn’t actually appear in any of it. That’s what makes The Last Dance remarkable- it’s that brand Jordan does acknowledge some of the uglier pieces of his story.
As the documentary ably shows, Jordan had a physically dominating but acrobatic and balletic approach to the game of basketball, that combined with his competitiveness and skills in public speaking, lead to both a dominating Q score and an all-time winning percentage that few previous basketball players (short of the 1960’s Bill Russell Celtics teams and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) could compete with (and hasn’t been matched since). That combination of grace, winning percentage, and corporate ubiquity, lead to a zeitgeist so steeped in adulation for Jordan’s exploits that Gatorade commercials sang about an inexhaustible desire to be, “like Mike”.
But Dance is more interested in some of the dynamics that lead to Jordan’s life at times being more of an ugly wrestling match, than an elegant dance. From questioning Jordan about his leadership style, which included relentless teasing, goading, and trash talking (that occasionally lead to actual fights with teammates), his only wanting “yes men” coaches (looking at you Doug Collins), and a gambling addiction that had such features of denial as Jordan wearing sunglasses indoors while insisting proof of him not having a problem included him having employment and not being homeless. Jordan (and his emotions) are surprisingly forthcoming about some of these questions, particularly regarding if his leadership style was indeed the best approach. Statisticians (and proponents of the win at all costs approach) will tell you that it was- but Jordan’s reaction suggests that perhaps he had second thoughts after years of reflection. It’s really something to see Jordan consider losing his composure, after not only his legend has grown, but been copied by future NBA Most Valuable Players like Kobe Bryant, who clearly took the Gatorade commercials to heart.
Last Dance doesn’t come without flaws. While it features a considerable amount of discourse as to whom Jerry Krause, the general manager who assembled not 1 but 2 Bulls juggernaut title squads, was as the deeply flawed individual who then dismantled one of the greatest teams of all time, it barely acknowledges that Krause deserves more credit for actually building those teams in the first place- although maybe not as much credit as Krause would have liked. If Krause hadn’t been as shrewd building those teams, Jordan likely never would have become anything more than a stat filled, highlight generation machine, lost in time to history’s list of winners.
Another feature that it can’t get around is how responsible the owner, Jerry Reinsdorf, was for signing off on Krause’s moves. The General Manager of a sports franchise does nothing without the owner’s approval- so in reality it was Reinsdorf who ultimately dismantled one of the greatest teams of all time, and one of its biggest cash cows ever. Watching Reinsdorf defend his actions, as the guy who says he warned Scottie Pippen not to sign a contract that would end up with him turning Pippen into one of the game’s most underpaid players, is some all time spin machine stuff.
It’s also hard to take talk too seriously the prestige of head coach Jackson’s mythos regarding his methods and his zen stylings. While winning 11 championships as a coach is impossible to discredit, 2 things that stick out about Jackson’s resume, is how overrated the Triangle Offence is (which was brought to prominence by assistant coach Tex Winter. Since the 1990’s, the offence has only been successful when facilitated through multiple first ballot hall of fame teammates), and how thin Jackson’s coaching tree of influence is- suggesting that his methods could have been inimitable, simply impossible for others to implement into NBA franchises, or perhaps, just a mirage coated in incense, a suggestion that Jackson couldn’t win it all- unless carrying a stacked deck.
Like all things, the end of Jordan’s career in the NBA didn’t actually end with him retiring after winning his 6th championship. Jordan would be unable to feel satisfied not playing the game he loved so much (and the player power/celebrity buzz that came with the stature) and would return to the league with his physical powers greatly diminished. The sight of Jordan, trying to compete in a league that he no longer dominated, on a not competitive team (that ironically he had assembled himself), compromised Jordan’s larger than life mythos. That, and a truly horrendous career as a General Manager and then owner of a perpetually underachieving team, is some more context that diminishes the god-like stature of his legend, but makes him infinitely more relatable and interesting- something more human. But like a Prom Queen sweetly reflecting on those glory days of yesteryear, the good years were truly great, and not only can nobody take them away from him- this docuseries encapsulates them better than anybody else before.
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