                            Sneakers
                 A Universal Pictures (MCI) Film
                 Directed by Phil Alden Robinson
          Produced by Walter F. Parkes, Lawrence Lasker
         Script by P.A. Robinson, L. Lasker, W.F. Parkes
                    (c) 1992; 121 min; PG-13

          Martin Bishop            Robert Redford
          Donald Crease            Sidney Poitier
          Mother                   Dan Ackroyd
          Carl Arbogast            River Phoenix
          Whistler                 David Strathairn
          Liz                      Mary McDonnell
          Hal Cosmo                Ben Kingsley
          (guest appearance by James Earl Jones)

                            A Review
                       by Ronald B. Meyer
                         \\ (two canes)

     Clever anagrams of the stars' names form some of the opening
credits.  Then it's night time.  Thieves, backed up by a van full
of high-tech electronic break-in gear, are engaged in silencing
alarms and circumventing security.  They break into a bank.  The
next day their leader, Martin Bishop ("Bish"), walks into the
bank and withdraws large quantities of cash--because he doesn't
feel his money is safe in this bank.  The bank directors who
hired him pay off the team leader for performing this test.  It
was a test.  This time.
     This opening sequence introduces what can only be described
as an unhappy stew of techno-thriller, comedy, action-adventure,
and liberal fantasy.  It's Sneakers, with an all-star cast under
the direction of the man who gave us Field of Dreams.  But this
isn't heaven.  This isn't even Iowa.  While pulling together a
group of super-talented individuals with shady pasts, who have to
figure out who the bad guys are before they can beat them, we get
to see a blind supporting character under greater than normal
circumstances.  It's just as well that every member of this team
has special talents and skills; otherwise, Whistler would be just
another stereotyped blind guy.
     The group itself is a stereotype, kind of a "Dirty Half-
Dozen."  There's the blind guy (Whistler), the black guy (Donald
Crease, who was mysteriously fired from the CIA), the kid (Carl
Arbogast), the woman (Liz, who used to be Bishop's girlfriend),
and the oddball (Mother, who knows the conspiracy behind
everything).
     How accurate and favorable is the portrayal of blindness in
Sneakers?  We first catch sight of Whistler in the opening
sequence, just before the bank break-in.  He is seen reading a
Braille copy of Playboy, presumably for comic effect.  His job is
to monitor Mother's testing of the phone lines to detect, by
sound, which one to tap into to misdirect the security guard when
he calls in an alarm.  He displays some pretty advanced technical
skills elsewhere in the movie and, indeed, is responsible for the
two major breaks in the case.
     The big job in Sneakers is to steal from its developer, a
mathematician named Janek, a black box containing a universal
decoder.  With this device, no computer system or database is
safe from entry, because this device infiltrates any encryption
scheme.  The trick is to keep this decoder away from the bad
guys:  the obvious ones--like Hal Cosmo (played with evil charm
by Ben Kingsley) and the crime syndicate he works for--and the
more subtle ones.  From a window across the street the team
watches Janek's office, which they've also bugged, to try to find
where the black box is hidden.  All but Whistler are searching
with their eyes.  Whistler finds the decoder with his ears.

     WHISTLER: It's on the desk.
     MOTHER: Whistler, I hate to tell you this, but you're blind.
     WHISTLER: Don't look.  Listen.

     Based on Carl's description of the object's in the office,
and Janek's girlfriend mentioning she left a message for Janek on
his "service," why, Whistler, wonders, is there a telephone
answering machine on the desk?  Aha!  That must be the decoding
device.  After that discovery, it is a simple matter for Bishop
to steal it and hand the decoder over to the government officials
who hired them.
     But wait.  There's a double-cross afoot.  Bishop is
kidnapped and taken to a secret location in the trunk of a car. 
When he arrives, he finds the black box is now in the hands of
his old college chum and fellow computer hacker Hal Cosmo.  He's
in the pay of organized crime?  "It's not that organized," quips
Cosmo, who tells his old friend Marty how he plans to use the
decoder to remake the world.
     Bish is released the same way he was kidnapped, and he has
no idea where he was taken until Whistler jogs his memory.

     WHISTLER:  Bish, what did you hear?

     Using Bishop's recollection of the sounds he heard, a sound
synthesizer with Braille display for comparison, and knowledge of
the roads and geography of the Bay Area, Whistler recreates the
route travelled in the trunk.  You have to admit Whistler has
some pretty good auditory skills, so it's a shame he doesn't have
any better travel skills.  We see Whistler move around the team's
workshop by groping his way, caneless and dogless.  When he's in
the field, tracing the route Bishop rode, he needs extra help. 
At one stop, Whistler has to be helped back into the van by
Crease.  Presumably he can't find the back door on his own, even
though he hears quite well.  Fortunately Bishop hears and
remembers pretty well, too, because they eventually find Cosmo's
hideout:  a phony toy factory.

     WHISTLER:  Congratulations, Bish.  Remind me to make you an
honorary blind person.

     The security system of this building is even more
sophisticated than that of the bank, but it's not too tough for
this team.  Part of the entry gauntlet involves a voice-
recognition computer, so Whistler uses his skills in audio tape-
editing to piece together a recording of the proper words
surreptitiously acquired by Liz.  The security is breached, Bish
retrieves the decoder, but at the last minute the plan goes awry
and the bad guys close in.  It's up to Whistler to come to the
rescue.

     WHISTLER: Oh, God.  I'm driving.  I'm driving.

     Yes, Whistler has to drive the van to rescue Bishop, who
directs him by radio.  Somehow we just knew we'd have to see a
blind guy driving in this movie.  It's irresistible for ironic
comic effect, even if it is predictable.
     David Strathairn has good acting credits:  We saw him in A
League of their Own in 1992, City of Hope and Without Warning:
The James Brady Story in 1991, Judgement, Memphis Belle, and Son
of the Morning Star in 1990, Eight Men Out in 1988, and the
critically acclaimed Matewan in 1987.  He is neither embarrassing
nor enlightening playing a blind guy in Sneakers, but neither is
his character helpful as a role model.  Granted, all the
characters on the team have their own individual quirks--Mother
(Dan Ackroyd) is the funniest of the bunch, in my opinion--but
the end of the movie makes Whistler seem just a little strange.  
     When the team returns home in triumph with the decoder
device, they discover that NSA is waiting to take possession,
machine guns at the ready.  One of the weapons, indeed, is
wielded by a woman named Mary.  James Earl Jones plays the NSA
man in charge, and does so with great authority.  But the team
members hand over the black box only after making individual
deals for things they desire.
     Mother wants a Winnebago.  Crease wants a European tour with
his wife.  Bishop wants his name cleared for his college computer
capers.  Carl just want's Mary's phone number.  Ahem.  Bishop
takes him aside, reminding Carl that "this is the brass ring." 
No, he just want's Mary's phone number.  But Whistler wants peace
on earth, goodwill toward men.  What?  Just that:  peace on
earth, goodwill toward men.
     Bishop doesn't take Whistler aside and tell him anything. 
Are blind people expected to be impractical or off-the-wall?  Are
blind people assumed to be so disconnected from, or oblivious to,
or uncaring about the world, or their own needs, that this seems
a normal request?  Normal, that is, for a blind guy?
     Or are we talking of just one individual blind person here? 
The trouble is, as I mentioned in the review of Scent of a Woman,
most people are not fortunate enough to interact with real blind
people on a daily basis.  The standard of behavior,
unfortunately, is being set by the oddballs like Frank "Scent of
a Woman" Slade and George of "Good & Evil" and even Irwin
"Whistler" Emory of Sneakers.  It was fun to watch this more-
than-normal blind guy for two hours, but if these are the only
blind people I see for most of my life, what should I expect from
a real blind person when I finally meet one?
     Blind people, I think, have to be accepted as normal people
first--then we can indulge an unskewed appreciation of the
occasional oddball or the extraordinarily gifted blind person. 
Trotting out the unusual in place of the ordinary may make truly
good drama, but for blind people generally it is not truly good.


     A NOTE ON THE RATING SYSTEM: The long white cane rating system is
similar to the "star" system for rating movies in the general media, though
the cane rating pertains to depictions of blindness.  The cane and tin cup can
be used in combination.
     \\\\      (four canes)= excellent; a must-see/read;
     \\\       (three canes)= good; worth a look/read;
     \\        (two canes)= fair; has problems;
     \         (one cane)= poor; not very positive;
     )        (tin cup)= old-fashioned, custodial.

1570 words