If Celtic Pride holds up, it does so just barely. This film can have easily been forgotten. But there’s enough charm, silliness and actual basketball know-how here to make it (mostly) half-entertaining. This 1996 comedy is about fan obsession. It also portrays sports fanaticism and the utterly irrational logic of the most diehard Celtics fans. The film is both very specific and oddly timeless. It’s a strange cocktail but one worth sipping – at least once.

The film stars Dan Aykroyd and Daniel Stern as lifelong Celtics fans who go from rowdy, beer-swilling super-fans to actual kidnappers when they abduct the star player of the opposing team – Damon Wayans’ Lewis Scott – on the eve of Game 7 of the NBA Finals. Yes, really. It’s a ridiculous premise and the movie knows it. But what’s surprising is how fully it commits to it.

Dan Aykroyd shines in a way that really helps the film stay afloat. He plays this kind of character well – his deadpan intensity blends with comedic timing to bring some actual believability to the absurdity. Daniel Stern, on the other hand, is shouting for most of the runtime. He’s not bad but it gets grating especially as the film goes on. Wayans meanwhile is mostly solid as the arrogant, self-centered superstar who finds himself chained to a radiator. It’s a role that could’ve leaned too far into caricature but he grounds it enough to keep the whole thing from floating away.

Christopher McDonald appears in a supporting role as the team’s head coach and while he isn’t given much screen time, he nails the vibe you want from a fictional NBA coach. Surprisingly, one of the best performances comes from the young actor playing Stern’s son. He brings an earnestness to the film that’s missing elsewhere – he’s one of the few characters you actually believe.

A special mention is warranted for the actress who plays Daniel Stern’s wife, Gail O’Grady. She’s unfamiliar but quite good – striking, calm, believable. She doesn’t get many scenes but her presence breaks up the madness with something resembling normalcy.

The background details deserve praise too. The set decoration and props are rich and textured. There’s a realism baked into the environments that actually elevates things. A great example is a scene where they flip through channels – each clip has its own visual identity and sense of realism. That’s not an easy thing to pull off. In fact, it’s overly ambitious for a film this silly. But it provides a texture that many comedies from this era lack.

Unsurprisingly, the screenplay is by a young Judd Apatow. The moment his name popped up in the credits, everything clicked into place. Celtic Pride feels like a sketch of the tonal mix he’d later refine: grounded relationships, obsessive characters and emotional arcs folded into high-concept comedy. That said, it’s a bit over-written. Some of the dialogue is needlessly expository – we already get how much this championship means to these guys, we don’t need it hammered in repeatedly by the end.

Thematically, the movie plays with the line between fandom and obsession – sometimes successfully, sometimes not. It captures the strange rituals and superstitions of sports fanatics better than most sports comedies. One of the funniest moments involves a friend being kicked out of his seat for being bad luck. That kind of scene feels true especially in the world of Boston sports culture.

So does the narrative wrap-up feel earned? Not really. The idea that Wayans’ character would consider these two losers “friends” by the end? No chance. But for the sake of wrapping things up cleanly, it’s a forgivable stretch. Even the final beat – an unnecessary Dion Sanders cameo – feels like a tacked-on joke but fine. It adds to the film’s charm more than it detracts. In the end, Celtic Pride is more fun than it has any right to be. It’s silly, inconsistent, sometimes over-the-top but there’s a strangely grounded quality to its madness. As far as NBA-oriented films go, it stands out for how it handles the basketball sequences and how seriously it takes the world it’s mocking. Aykroyd brings just enough fire and the film gives just enough care to detail to earn its place as a niche comedy relic from the ’90s worth rediscovering.

★★ ★★★ ★★

Read my shorter analyses via IMDb and Letterboxd.

Want more sports comedy? Read The Mighty Ducks. Or a forgotten 90s flick check Swimming with Sharks.