Brian Piccolo gets cancer midway through the film, and loses the battle to the Big C. Before you grab a pitchfork and torch, and march upon my house screaming spoiler, I should state that Piccolo's fate is common knowledge, and in any event, Jack Warden's, er, George Halas' opening narration bluntly states the friendship ends in death. He's probably not referring to a pet goldfish.
How others will see it. This tearjerker should appeal to a wide audience. Men, particularly of a certain age, can enjoy the pro football aspect to the story. Women can key in on the friendship, the tragedy, and the growing involvement of the wives in the story. It may or may not make you cry. If you're prone to such things, you certainly will.
How I felt about it. Brian's Song, with its themes of friendship, interratial harmony, and courage, is impervious to mainstream criticism. That is, one can't criticize the film without appearing cynical or mean-spirited. And as television movies go, this one is first rate, with all the production values: a quality cast (James Caan was in The Godfather, Williams, Warden, and Fabares are all familiar stalwarts), a quality script (although profanity, brutality, drugs, and other dark side elements of pro football life are conveniently sanitized), and fast-paced direction. The show is over in 75 minutes, not counting commercials.
The film accurately reflects the helplessness one feels dealing with terminal illness. Piccolo puts on a brave face, but all he can do is grin and bear it. In a way, his support system of Fabares, Sayers, and Pace has it worse, since they can only stand by flabbergasted that this terrible thing is happening to Piccolo, who is still in his mid-twenties.
Where the film works best is in its treatment of race. Black and white are simply grounds for good-natured teasing, an acknowledgement of an obvious physical difference, but also with full awareness of its unimportance. After all, Sayers is from Kansas, the true source of his work ethic and self-effacing, unselfish personality.