BLACK ICE - Mark Reviews Movies

Black Ice, Lionsgate / Roadside Attractions

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Review by Mark Dujsik | July 13, 2023

The continuing, destructive issue of racism isn't isolated to the United States, and the documentary Black Ice focuses on how that social ill has been allowed to fester in the sport of ice hockey, as well as the country that birthed the game, since its inception. Canada has an international reputation as a welcoming place of kindness and fraternity, but the increasingly diverse rosters of hockey players at all levels of the sport have very publicly revealed what most, if not all, of those players from minority backgrounds have long known.

Director Hubert Davis brings that to light with this movie, which is an important one, to be sure, in the way it dissects assumptions about a national character and allows voices, which had been ignored or coerced into silence for decades, to be heard. In bringing forth the case that the sport of hockey has a systemic problem that needs addressing, the movie makes a strong case by way of personal testimony and, of course, documentary evidence. As a narrative, though, Davis' effort is a bit too unfocused, especially when it tries to tie together a previously hidden past of Black players to the injustices of today, to be as compelling as the subject matter demands.

For the most part, Davis interviews a variety of players, currently or formerly in the sport. Their stories share so much in terms of the details of the culture within and surrounding hockey that the issues are too apparent to ignore.

The main interviewees here include former NHL players Akim Aliu, Wayne Simmonds, and P.K. Subban. Additionally, we meet women's professional player Saroya Tinker (Only a matter of weeks ago, the league for which she played ceased operations—a fact that the movie doesn't address for obvious reasons but that certainly adds to the case that certain groups are commonly overlooked by and in the sport) and a youth leaguer named Mark Connors. They speak freely of their love for the sport, engrained in them since childhood, as is the case with most folks in Canada.

More to the point, they openly share incidents of racism against them as Black participants in a sport that historically hindered people of minority racial and/or ethnic backgrounds from playing. There was no official or unofficial policy in regards to that form of segregation as far as any expert or historian—some of them interviewed here—can tell, but the proof is right there in the game's history.

A deeper dive into that history might have helped Davis' case significantly, especially when the filmmaker pauses his interviews to look at, as it is historically known, the Coloured Hockey League, which began in Eastern Canada in 1895—20 years after hockey was first introduced. A fraternal pair of hockey historians, hoping to write the definitive account of the sport, stumbled upon the existence of the league while doing research for their book, and they were and remain stunned that the league has not received the recognition it deserves.

Unfortunately, it doesn't get much recognition here, either, although Davis makes sure we understand how many things people take for granted about the game—how the goalie plays and something as seemingly foundational as the slapshot—originated in that league, as proven by contemporary reporting on matches. There's a bigger picture to observe here, in the way the league and its home base in a predominantly Black area of Halifax were ended in the name of gentrification and railroad expansion. It's an undeniably tragic tale that feels too-hastily told within the structure of this documentary.

That does leave the personal stories, though, which are painful and troubling, not because they're unique, but because the common themes of them are so, well, common as to be shared by players of multiple generations. The retired professionals speak of being treated differently or outright verbally abused on the basis of race by other players and even one coach, whose character and career are almost reflexively defended by some in the sports news media, simply because the accusations came later.

These aren't isolated incidents, and neither are they actions as overt as ones that have made headlines and news broadcasts over the decades. The more obvious cases of racism include crowds yelling racial epithets or making racist gestures at a Black player (Another common thread is that each of these interview subjects was the only Black player on the ice whenever he or she played). They're unavoidable. There are videos and photos of these incidents happening.

In youth and junior leagues, such as the ones in which Connor participated, even children, teens, and their parents would do the same, and there's a mentality in hockey, filled with strange irony, that no one player is greater than the team. For the perceived benefit and betterment of that team, these players felt obligated to remain silent for years, lest they be deemed "difficult" or "un-coachable."

The point of Black Ice is clear and made with a pointed sense of the personal writ large on an institution, even if the movie's own story too often feels as if it's shortchanging the specifics of the history and past stories of individuals in the sport. As a result, this is an important movie, but it's not quite a successful one at telling the full scope of the story it's trying to tell.

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