Steve McNair’s meteoric rise and tragic fall take center stage in Untold: The Murder of Air McNair, a gripping documentary that tackles the NFL star’s complex legacy both on and off the field.

McNair, a quarterback, was killed on July 4, 2009. He was shot multiple times by Sahel Kazemi, a 20-year-old woman with whom he was having an extramarital affair. After shooting McNair, Kazemi turned the gun on herself in an apparent murder-suicide.

The film meticulously traces McNair’s journey from humble beginnings at Alcorn State to NFL stardom. It highlights his exceptional resilience and skill as quarterback for the Houston Oilers, who later became the Tennessee Titans.

McNair’s career reached its zenith with a nail-biting performance in Super Bowl XXXIV, where he led the Titans to within yards of victory. This moment, though ending in defeat, cemented his place in football history.

But Untold doesn’t just focus on McNair’s athletic prowess. Through intimate interviews with teammates, friends, and family, the documentary peels back the layers of a man whose outward success masked inner turmoil.

The stark contrast between McNair’s public persona and private challenges becomes increasingly apparent as the narrative unfolds. The film doesn’t shy away from exploring the pressures of fame and the strain it put on his personal relationships.

The film delves into McNair’s ongoing battles with injuries during this period, offering insight into the physical toll of his mad-bull playing style. These health struggles added another layer of complexity to an already complicated life.

Untold also explores the web of personal relationships that surrounded McNair in his final years. While it treads carefully, the documentary provides context for the circumstances that would ultimately lead to his shocking murder in 2009.

Perhaps the film’s only shortcoming is its occasional reluctance to dive deeper into psychological analysis. Some viewers may be left with unanswered questions about the inner workings of McNair’s mind.

Nevertheless, Untold: The Murder of Air McNair offers a sobering look at the vulnerabilities that can lie behind a hero’s facade. It not only honors McNair’s considerable contributions to the sport, but also serves as a poignant reminder of the human being behind the jersey.

What do you get when you add two Oscar winners, a double nominee, and an awful script? An awful movie with criminally misspent talent. The Union is a masterclass in squandering potential.

At its core, The Union is supposed to be a high-octane thriller about a group of elite, ex-military operatives who are coerced into reuniting for one last mission. They’re tasked with taking down “The Syndicate,” a shadowy organization that’s somehow both omnipresent and utterly incompetent.

On paper, it sounds like the setup for a tense, action-packed film. In execution, it’s a bloated, nonsensical mess that seems to actively despise its audience’s intelligence.

The film opens with what should be a heart-pounding heist scene, but instead, it feels like watching a poorly edited video game cutscene. J.K. Simmons, playing the world-weary , but looks visibly uncomfortable here, like he knows how bad this is but is contractually obligated to see it through.

Halle Berry’s character, a supposedly brilliant hacker with a tragic past, is introduced in a sequence that feels like it was lifted from a bad TV procedural. We see her typing furiously at a computer, spouting technobabble that makes no sense even by Hollywood standards.

Mark Wahlberg, in what should be a role tailor-made for his tough-guy persona, is reduced to a caricature. His character is the hot-headed leader, but instead of being dynamic or compelling, he comes off as a one-note brute. There’s a scene where Wahlberg’s character confronts the villain, expecting to deliver a memorable showdown.

Instead, it’s a laughable exchange where the villain spouts off monologues about chaos and power that sound like they were written by a college freshman trying too hard to be deep.

The film’s pacing is another disaster. In one particularly baffling sequence, the team infiltrates a high-security compound. What should have been a carefully orchestrated operation turns into a confusing, poorly choreographed shootout. Characters move in and out of frame with no sense of geography or logic, and the camera work is so chaotic that it’s impossible to tell what’s happening. When the dust settles, there’s no sense of accomplishment or relief—just exhaustion from trying to keep up with the nonsensical action.

And then there’s the climax, where all the narrative threads are supposed to come together in a satisfying conclusion. Instead, it feels like the writers just gave up. The final confrontation with The Syndicate is so underwhelming that it’s hard to believe this is what the entire movie was building towards. Characters we’re supposed to care about are dispatched with little fanfare, and the supposed “twists” are so telegraphed that they land with a dull thud.

Ultimately, The Union commits the ultimate cinematic sin: it’s boring. No amount of star power can save it from its dismal script, and the result is a movie that’s as forgettable as it is frustrating.

I’d go undercover with this one.